Violets Are Blue: The Ninth Hunger Games
by Ruetheday
Summary: This is how the world ends, not with a bang but with a whimper. Let the terror, let the madness, let the chaos, let the confusion, let the Games begin.
1. Violets are Blue Part 1

**`Violets Are Blue`**

The Ninth Hunger Games- my next project, my next worry, the President's next reason to wring my neck if all goes wrong. My main hope is to please him as I did last year with my rose arena. The victor, Lani Baldova, will be mentoring this time, maybe that'll give her tributes the edge they need to win. Then again, maybe not. Last year's winner wasn't exactly normal- but enough of that.

"Amacus?" The President knocks on my door and enters without waiting for an answer.

"Yes sir?" I ask, already aware of the next question. I hide my drumming fingers under my desk along with my tapping foot. The President doesn't show fondness towards 'fidgeting cowards.'

"What are the plans for the arena this year?" He asks me. His voice stays calm, but his eyes hunt for a weakness. They scan me for any flaws to pounce on.

I gulp before answering, "I was thinking of an arena with a large scale. Everything will be bigger, except for the weapons, backpacks with they supplies and the tributes themselves,"

"Reasoning?" He doesn't miss a beat.

"To show the tributes that they are small. The Capitol is large and will forever enclose them; rule them; and control their fate," I decide to go with a rather morbid approach, hoping it will get the President's approval.

"Good work, Amacus. I'm impressed. This may not be your last year as Head Gamemaker," He smiles lightly and steps out of my office. His threat hangs heavy in the air, making me feel as trapped as the tributes will in the arena this year.

**Lani Baldova, Previous Victor, Age-18**

**District Five**

My heart thuds in my chest. There is never a moment of rest. I finished the victory tour hours ago, and now I'm preparing for the next Hunger Games. The reaping is in a mere twelve hours. I won the Hunger Game to live, to escape the madness, but it seems to be following me.

Of course, I never thought I'd be completely free. I knew that the memories of those who fell in my path would haunt me- and they have. Aiden and Calico creep into my dreams. I watch them die over and over again. I see myself push Canzi to her death. I hear the cannons. I glare at the roses in the arena.

There isn't a night when I don't wake up covered in a cold sweat, screaming. But I pull through because that's the only thing I can do. The tears never stop falling and soon I'm afraid I'll be drained.

The worst is that I find myself acting like someone I'm not. Rather than spend my days with my family, I sit in my room alone or with my cats. I can't even relate to my sisters now. They don't know the horror I've been through. Seeing it is one thing; living it is another.

**Welcome to my story! PM me to receive a form. Check my profile to see what spots are taken. I'm doing everything I can to keep this legal, fanfiction!:)**

**Rules for ****Violets Are Blue-**

**No 'Mary Sues'/'Gary Stus.' Be civil to the other reviewers, and moi. Submit one tribute only. Review each chapter leading up to the Games to keep your tribute alive. Please don't make any perfect tributes- I'm being tougher with this than I was last time. Try not to mirror them off of the tributes in the books (example: Don't make the D5 girl a stealthy redheaded boss ;P ) You get the idea! If you are reading this put 'all hail Sophie' at the bottom of your form;). Have fun with your tributes!:) Don't be afraid to make them crazy/ weird/ vicious/ vengeful/ depressed/ dramatic etc, I tend to like the ones that stick out better along with the other reviewers!**


	2. Violets Are Blue Part 2

'**Violets Are Blue'**

Another meeting takes place today- an important one too. The President has asked me to confer with the rest of the gamemakers and tell them of my many plans. I stare at my clock, subconsciously counting down to the minute I have to leave the comfort of my office and face Panem. My fingers begin to drum on top of my desk. I like the hollow sound the wood makes compared to the thundering noises of steel and other metals.

I frown at my feet. This job isn't easy. My life is on the line, a very narrow line. The President has so many rules that he doesn't tell me about. He just expects me to be perfect. And if I cross one of these invisible rules, well you've heard his threats.

_Focus! This could be the biggest day of your career! _I think to myself and look back to my blueprints. The arena will be outdoors, of course. I'm thinking of putting rare flowers in the arena to tower over the tributes. In the left upper corner of the arena there will be the Cornucopia. To the right of it is a lane of twisted flowers, each neglected and left out in the sun too long. Below them, in the center of my prints is a large field of grass. Each blade is precisely seven feet high. The force field put around the arena is covered with a dense fog, enough to make a tribute get lost. Below the grass field and to the right is a giant hedge maze. In the center there is another secret Cornucopia, highly guarded of course. And finally, on the far bottom left section of the arena is a forest complete with vicious mutts, plenty of trees, and food.

There is so much opportunity, but with each brilliant outcome there is an equally possible terrible consequence.

**Dumbledore: SILENCEEEE!**

**Thank you Dumbledore. I hope he got your attention. This whole author's note is very important to read. Okay, everybody please listen up! I need your forms for this story to start! All spots are taken, sorry newcomers. Everyone who hasn't given me their tribute left, but reserved a spot needs to please hurry because I want to start soon! Thanks for the reviews!:) I appreciate them!**

**PM me for the form, those of you who still need it! Also, every few chapters I will put up a poll where you can choose your favorite tribute!**

**I'm also going to have a contest before the bloodbath. I'll give you a prompt and you make a fanfic out of it! I'd like it to be from the Hunger Games. This is completely unnecessary, meaning don't do it if you don't want to! It's for fun. And sponsor points. First place gets **_**twenty sponsor points**_**. Depending on how many people enter, I might have second and third place prizes too. You must enter BEFORE THE BLOODBATH! I have no rules for this contest other than it must be a Hunger Games fanfiction and rated T or below. USE THIS PROMP: ****Frozen in time ****and PM me when you are done so I can go check it out!:) I'll be reminding you to do the prompt throughout the story so don't worry about forgetting. Take your time!**

SPONSOR POINTS QUESTION (2pts)-** (You must turn in your form before you can answer. If you don't have a tribute, but you are still reading this story you may choose a tribute to give points to on each question): **Do you have any ideas for this story? Suggestions for mutts, the arena, Capitol chapters etc.?

**Sorry this is a lot to spring on you guys, but hey! The reaping will be out soon!**


	3. Reaping Part 1

**Yo! Real quick guys- at the start of each chapter I have a song that I think portrays the mood, setting etc. I suggest pulling up youtube and listening to the song while you read or before/after, but it's your choice! The song for this chapter is called "Missing" by Evanescence (this song isn't the usual 'type' I listen to, but whatever). Most chapters of mine, almost all, are in first person, but I like to do the reaping in third person just so you can get the feel of the character a little better. THIS IS WAY LONGER THAN USUAL! To be honest, the reaping is really difficult for me! AND I USUALLY UPDATE SO MUCH QUICKER! I'M SO SORRY!**

**~ The Reaping ~**

Please, please forgive me,  
But I won't be home again.  
I know what you do to yourself,  
I breathe deep and cry out,  
"Isn't something missing?  
Isn't someone missing me?"

…

**District One **_**The Lithe and The Judged**_

Platinum blond hair whips through the crisp air of District One. A small twelve-year old lands her backflip perfectly- like always. She smiles as her friend cheers. Sprite Winters bows graciously and giggles, pulling out a cherry red lollipop from her back pocket.

"Thanks Azura," she smiles to her friend, who grins in response.

"Want to hang out before the reaping?" The raven-haired girl asks.

Sprite shakes her head, "I can't, I have to go home. You know how my mother gets," Azura nods, understanding. Mrs. Winters is extra protective over her daughter. Her husband was killed in the Dark Days shortly after Sprite was born mid-rebellion. Mrs. Winters likes Sprite to be home with her often. But Sprite is lying this time. The truth is that she feels like spending the moments prior to the reaping alone and in her own house.

Sprite skips off to her house in the Victor's Village. The cold concrete smacks against her pink shoes while the breeze ruffles her straightened hair. A cloud blocks out the sun for a moment while a shadow falls over Sprite. _Dad? _She wonders and looks up to the sky. It seems like her father's presence has been keeping watch over her. Sprite feels like he's with her at important milestones of her life- like her first reaping.

When Sprite makes it home she quickly unlocks the front door and bolts up to her room- she's already late and choosing an outfit takes time. Sprite picks a lacey white dress and pulls it over her head. Afterwards she runs a brush through her hair and heads out the door, ready for her first reaping.

Across the town in a place completely unlike the Victor's Village a gang of five wanders the empty streets. Today of all days is perfect for a break-in. In the poorest part of District One the everything looks grey, from the streets to the houses and even the sky above. Jules Gilded follows the gang's leader, Awe Glenn down a side street and in front of a small brick house with dirt instead of grass in the yard. Awe takes to the side of the house with no windows.

"Oval, Tyger, go knock on the door to see if anyone's home. You know what to do," Awe whispers. He turns to Jules next. "Jules- look for a backdoor or an open window. Anything to get in. Kitty," Awe plants a kiss on his girlfriend, "watch for any movement inside. I'll be ready to defend." The gang nods, then breaks. Before Jules leaves, Oval flashes him a look. She's never liked Jules. And Jules knows why.

Jules walks around the house, carefully ducking under any windows after making sure they weren't open. He steps into the narrow backyard carefully. Last month Tyger was mauled by a dog. After double-checking, Jules walks to the wooden backdoor. Just then he barely hears Tyger and Oval's voices, traveling from the front yard. A different voice is talking back to them. Meaning, no one is inside the house right now. With that Jules kicks the door, a trick he's mastered, and it swings open. Luckily he was quiet enough not to draw the attention of the homeowner. Jules makes his way through the house until he finds a bedroom. The bed is unmade and the floor covered with clothes, trash and more.

"Yuck," he mutters before rifling through the homeowner's items and pilfering the valuable ones. Jules stuffs everything into his pocket and runs back out the door. He slams the backdoor loud enough for the gang to know that it's time to run away. Jules catches up to them three blocks later.

"Oh baby my hearts beating like a samba band!" Jules pants. Oval glares at him. This is why she doesn't like Jules- he's feminine; gay.

"What do you have Jules?" Tyger asks, ignoring Oval.

Jules spills out his pockets, showing his stolen items.

Thirty minutes later, Jules and Sprite are at the reaping. Sprite stands tall in the twelve year-old section, smiling next to Azura. Jules ignores his father's glances of disgust. He's been like this since Jules 'came out of the closet.' Mr. Gilded wants nothing to do with his son. He's mad now, but if he found out his rich son was running around with the District's poorest gang there'd be hell. There's only one reason the gang hasn't been ratted out to Mr. Gilded- Jules has 'done things' with the peacekeepers to keep them from talking.

"Hello District One!" Alpha Quanta, the District One escort smiles into the crowd of perfect hair, gleaming white teeth, and bright blue eyes. "As you know, today is the reaping," he continues. "And one lucky boy and girl will be picked for the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games takes place as the punishment for the Districts for the rebellion, I remind you. So we have a special video for you all to watch!" Alpha grins happily as reenactment scenes from the Dark Days flash across the giant screen behind him.

"And now I skip to the fun part- the reaping! Who will be picked? Will anyone volunteer? Will District One have a winner this year? OH THE TENSION!" Alpha cackles like a mad-man. He looks at the two clear glass bowls in front of him and sticks his gloved hand into the one on the left. The strip of paper unfolds, revealing a name.

"SPRITE WINTERS!" Alpha calls.

A small twelve-year old flips her golden hair over her shoulder and walks up the stairs to the stage. She knew this was going to happen sometime, too bad it's so soon. The crowd gives a few looks of sympathy to Sprite, but many know that she isn't as harmless as she looks.

"Hello there ma'am! May the odds be ever in your favor. Now for the boys," Alpha twirls his hand around once inside the bowl before he grasps a piece of paper.

"WREATH MOERCOLI!"

"I VOLUNTEER!" A burly boy shouts. He smiles at the crowd venomously and waltzes up to the stage.

"What's your name son?" Alpha has a light smile on his lips. Volunteers are always fun.

"Jules Gilded, sir. And oh my lord it feels like I just ran a marathon! My heart is a-thumpin' like there's no tomorrow!"

"Good to hear Jules. Shake hands!" Alpha commands the tributes.

Sprite, the small girl who fits in, and Jules, the tall boy who's judged for being different, shake hands; blue eyes locked onto each other.

**District Two **_**The Kind and The Underestimated**_

"Dessie! Are you ready for your big day!?" Mrs. Martin shouts from downstairs.

Dessiah Martin groans from her room. She forgot it was today. How could she forget?! Dessiah rolls her eyes at her own self and climbs out of her bed. Luckily her mother already picked out her outfit- a light blue shirt with a tiny white skirt. _Typical. _

If only her mother wasn't so blind! Couldn't she see that her daughter wanted nothing to do with 'glory' or 'honor?' After all, what's honorable about murdering twelve-year olds like herself?

And you'd have thought that after Mr. and Mrs. Martin's eldest child Daltin was killed in the seventh Hunger Games they'd realize how precious their last child was. But no, now they were going to force her to her death just like poor Daltin!

Dessiah sighs when she looks in the mirror and runs a brush through her wavy orange hair.

"Get it all out now," she whispers to her reflection. "Don't let the anger change you in the arena. Nothing will change you, not even your parents." She's already vowed not to become a coldblooded killer.

A sliver of hope still rings in Dessiah's heart. Maybe, just maybe, someone will be quicker to volunteer. Or possibly she could be reaped and then someone could volunteer for her. But the odds are slim. Dessiah isn't stupid. She knows how today is going to end- on a train.

Dessiah wanders downstairs to the kitchen. Her mother's made her favorite meal- eggs with a side of fruit. Dessiah smiles for a second, but then remembers what comes after this.

Across the street from Dessiah's home is a smaller stone house.

"Scott, are you getting ready?" Maude asks her younger brother from down the hall.

"Yes!" Scott Jameson replies. He brushes his teeth vigorously. It isn't supposed to be like this. Maude isn't supposed to ask so sweetly if he'll be ready for the reaping. She's supposed to storm upstairs and make a big deal of what a burden he is. Until recently that's how Maude acted- like he was a pest. But now he's a king. Not that Scott likes it. He'd rather be shooed away.

"Good luck today! I hope we both come out of the reaping together!" Scott's stomach turns into water. Guilt tugs at him because he knows that he won't be coming back home.

"You too," he mumbles back, but his voice is lost in the long hallway.

Scott looks his reflection in the eyes, power surging through him. After today he won't be pathetic. No, after today he'll be honorable and proud.

After getting ready Scott walks to his sister's room. Maude's the only family left. Scott's parents died in the rebellion while his two year-old siblings were adopted by Capitol citizens.

"You look handsome," Maude grins while poking an earring through her ear.

Scott shrugs, "Thanks, you look nice too,"

Later that morning District Two gathers at the town center, where a large television screen is set up on a metallic stage.

"Hello District Two! What a mighty fine day it is… perfect for the reaping!" Table Goutyu grins. Her autumn red hair flies backwards in the strong wind. Thankfully for District two, Table is thought of as the "normal one" among the other escorts. The only Capitol-like physical quality about her are her dandelion-yellow eyebrows.

Table continues with the reaping and turns on the clip from the Dark Days. Scott's face falls when he watches the bombs rain down on his District. Even though the clip is a reenactment, it seems all too real.

"Brilliant," Table comments afterwards. "Now, the reaping…" she mumbles and walks behind the girl's reaping bowl. Her fingers delicately pick out a sheet of paper. She unfolds it carefully and reads,

"SABRINA GREYSABR!" Dessiah's heart thumps. _Please. Someone volunteer! _She shouts in her mind. After another moment's hesitation, Dessiah's hand shoots up.

"I volunteer," the red-haired girl's voice come out as a whimper. Her pale skin looks delicate in the daylight while her brown eyes grow twice in size.

Table nods at the girl so she continues walking to the stage.

"What's your name?" Table asks and hands the girl the microphone.

"Dessiah Martin," The girl looks frozen stiff.

"Now to the boys!" Table ignores Dessiah and grabs another slip of paper.

"RABIO CURBER!" She shouts.

"I VOLUNTEER!" A voice braver than the last calls back. The crowd separates, revealing a small fourteen year-old boy. A cry is heard over the rustle. An eighteen year-old resembling the volunteer screams.

"SCOTT! NO! PLEASE!" She shouts as peacekeepers rush to silence her.

The boy looks unfazed as he walks to the stage. Before Table can speak he takes the microphone, "Scott Jameson," He smiles when he sees the shock faces of his District.

Table shrugs. The two volunteers stand side by side, never looking the other in the eye.

**District Three **_**The Solitary and The Liar**_

_Black is everywhere. It hangs down around Valentina Bolt, engulfs her. The color is like dark ink. Valentina touches it carefully and realizes it's hair. Valentina recognizes the face connected to it, sweet and understanding with wide brown eyes and a button nose. Valentina feels herself go boneless. She hasn't seen that face for three terrible years.  
"Marika!" Valentina hears the rush in her voice.  
The black-haired girl smiles, but something isn't right. Her brown eyes are glassy.  
"I want you to have this," Marika says, holding something out towards Valentina, enclosed in her palms.  
"What?" Valentina asks, sounding nervous. There's a tickle at the back of her brain, something still isn't right.  
"I found it by the factory a year ago. I've worn it ever since, but I want you to have it," Marika grins and opens her hand. Inside is a shiny green gem.  
"No. You already gave that to me. _I _keep it with me wherever I go. It's mine already!" That's what isn't right. This has already happened. It's a dream of a memory.  
"No, I want you to have it," Marika says. Valentina pauses for a minute. "You're welcome," Marika continues. "Yeah, definitely,"  
"What's going on!?" Valentina cries, feeling like ripping her hair out. It's a dream, it must be. Valentina tries to pinch herself awake. She screams, not wanting to see this nightmare anymore.  
Marika keeps conversing in a one-way conversation. Valentina jolts for a second, feeling herself falling… falling…_

THUMP!

Valentina wakes up sprawled on her wooden floor. She rubs the back of her head and realizes she's drenched in cold sweat. She turns to the clock fastened onto her light blue wall. _Better get ready for the reaping… _she thinks sadly. A sigh escapes from Valentina. There's no point in this. There's no point in the reaping, the Hunger Games, any of it. It's all useless.

Valentina fingers the emerald gem hanging around her neck. The smoothly cut edges slide against her hand. The emerald's fake. Just like this life.

Nikolai Bendix gets into position. He waits for his opponent to show readiness, after it's only courteous. After both are prepared, Nikolai whistles, signaling the beginning of a match. Nikolai smiles and tackles his foe, sending them both to the ground with an 'oof.' Nikolai has him now! He starts to claw into the other child's back with his fingernails.

"HA!" Nikolai laughs and throws punches into his back.

"OW! NIKOLAI STOP!"

Nikolai ignores him and continues.

"PLEASE! STOP IT!" The boy begs, but Nikolai is in his own world. Eventually a passing stranger prys Nikolai off of the boy.

"What the hell!?" Nikolai's opponent shouts.

"Sorry Ronny," Nikolai stares at the ground. Why does it always end like this? Why can't he just pay attention and stop.

"That's the last time I have a FAKE fight with you. Or did you forget it was fake?" Ronny spits.

"I'm sorry," Nikolai mumbles. "I have to go, my mother's waiting for me at the train," he says before running off.

"WE DON'T HAVE A TRAIN AROUND HERE!" Ronny yells back.

Nikolai doesn't stop running until he reaches his small shack near the end of District Three.

His mother raises an eyebrow when he enters the room, coated in sweat and out of breath. "Seriously Nikolai? Did you get in trouble for lying again?" She shakes her head. Nikolai is a compulsive liar and his mother has a habit of teasing him about it.

"I'm going to get dressed for the reaping," he states and runs upstairs, past his siblings' rooms and his parents' room to the end of the hall.

An hour later, all of District Three is gathered by the stage at the town square. Nikolai Bendix is careful not to stand next to Ronny in the sixteen year-old section. Valentina Bolt is emotionless, this is her last year to get reaped and she's ready to get it over with.

"Hello District Three!" Characillia Wander Van Quisoner Markus smiles at the crowd. No one smiles back.

"Welcome to the reaping, I hope you all are ready!" Mr. Markus looks for a reaction again, but gets nothing. He shows the video of the Dark Days and continues.

"Let's start with the ladies, shall we?" He sticks his hand into the reaping bowl and takes out a sheet of paper.

"VALENTINA BOLT!" He calls. A slim girl in the far back gasps. The realization hits her like a punch in the gut. She should have been afraid to die. She should have seen this coming. She's never safe and never will be now. Valentina walks slowly to the stage, taking her time to take in District Three for the last time.

When she gets upstage, Mr. Markus is already pulling out another name. "NIKOLAI BENDIX!"

The crowd parts for a tall boy with frizzy blond hair. The boy walks up to the stage optimistically, earning several quizzical glances. After he's on the stage he takes the microphone. "I'm actually feeling good about all this, you know? I've trained all of my life for this moment, and I'm ready, " His voice is cheery and Nikolai grins for a moment, before it disappears into something more pathetic, "- oh wait, I'm not a Career. Um... Help?"

**District Four **_**The Rejected and The Brave**_

Sometimes people leave you in life and after a few tears you forget. Sometimes though, it isn't that easy. No matter how much you try not to think about them, you do.

"Katrina, breakfast is ready darling," the soothing voice of Mr. Greene travels to Katrina Greene's room.

Katrina shoots up and throws off her covers and heads to the kitchen. Guilt drenches her heart when she sees her mother lean over to kiss Mr. Greene on the cheek. How could her mother do this to her?! There are so many things wrong with what happened…

Eloisa Greene had an affair years before the rebellion with Voltage Lenit who once lived in District Three. He's dead now, but beforehand Eloisa had a baby girl, Katrina and told the mayor it was his daughter.

On the side, without Mr. Greene knowing, Katrina and Eloisa tried to contact Voltage, but he harshly made it known that he wanted nothing to do with them. Eloisa tried to comfort Katrina, to tell her that Voltage should be forgotten; but Katrina does what she's told she can't. She spent hours at District Four's Justice Building, sneaking past the peacekeepers with ease. No one wants to arrest the mayor's daughter. Eventually Katrina found that Voltage had two daughters- Frankie and Jamie.

"Good morning!" Eloisa crows. Katrina shoots her a look and Eloisa turns to the ground.

"Are you ready for the reaping?" Mr. Greene asks Katrina.

"Yeah, I think so," Katrina says flatly.

"Why on Earth would she need to be ready for the _reaping _Lewis? Katri can't volunteer or anything, she isn't trained well enough," Eloisa says quietly. Mr. Greene shrugs, but winks at Katrina.

Caspias Destin plops down at the old kitchen table. The white paint is peeling off, revealing darker wood. Caspias doesn't know why his family keeps it when they can easily afford another. He supposes it's sentimental value is high for his parents.

"Hello Caspias! It's great to see you home early in the morning!" His mother smiles and refers to Caspias leaving for work every day.

"You too, mom," He replies genuinely.

"Caspias!" Mr. Destin enters the room, "My boy, how are you today?"

"I'm fine dad, how are you?" Caspias asks as his mother sits next to him at the old table and hands him a plate of steaming seaweed rolls.

"Could be better," his voice suddenly sounds grim.

"Daniel! Caspias is right and as much as I hate it, I think if he wants to go into the Hunger Games that is _his _decision," Mrs. Destin turns to Casper, "Not mine, not Daniel's, your choice. Don't let us control your fate."

Caspias looks towards his feet, feeling guilty and stubborn at the same time. Should he make his parents happy and stay safe with them or should he go into the arena this year and sacrifice his life for another? If only the reaping weren't today and he could decide later…

Fortemo Mawer glides onto the stage. Her dark brown hair flows off of her face in the wind. "Are we ready for the reaping?" She grins while the crowd of District Four citizens cheers in merriment. Fortemo continues and shows the clip of the dark days. Afterwards she turns back to the crowd, tears forming in her brown eyes.

"That was just so emotional, I'm sorry," She wipes away her tears. "Now let's get started, shall we?" Fortemo reaches into the reaping bowl on her left. "For the girls…" She picks a slip of paper and reads aloud,

"NIMI DELARO!"

"I VOLUNTEER!" A slim hand shoots up in the mob. The audience parts for girl with her nose up. _It's the mayor's daughter! _They think.

"Name?" Fortemo hands her volunteer the microphone.

"I'm Katrina Greene- your next victor," Mrs. Greene claps a hand over her mouth.

"Now for the males," Fortemo reaches into the reaping bowl and takes another sheet of paper.

"SAM QUESPER!"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Another voice shouts before anyone else.

"Name?" Fortemo asks again.

"Caspias Destin,"

"Our tributes for District Four!" Fortemo grins and takes her Katrina and Caspias' hands in her own and then lifts them to the sky.

**District Five **_**The Spoiled and The Shadow**_

Shay Cassidy struts down the streets of District Five. Only to her they aren't 'the streets' they're _'her _streets.' After all, Shay's father is the mayor. The Cassidy family lives on a marble mansion atop a hill. It's been said to have to best view of the District. Shay thinks it could be a little better.

As Shay walks on the brick streets her black heels clomp. She keeps her tanned nose upwards. Flipping her chocolate hair back, Shay smiles to herself. Her pearly teeth look like tiny perfect daggers.

"Shay! Hey, how are you?" A chirpy voice calls from behind her. Shay twirls around to find Elizabeth Conners with her arms open wide. Shay rushes into them squealing.

"Liz, you wouldn't believe it, but I swear today while I was walking this poor peasant asked me for money!" Elizabeth scoffs in disbelief. "I know! I'm not some charity!"

"Ew! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine," Shay shakes her head.

"Are you sure? You could get some rare poor person disease," Elizabeth looks genuinely concerened, but Shay laughs.

"I'm _fine!" _She says. Elizabeth starts to giggle too. They both laugh loudly so all the little people stare.

On the outskirts of District Five, so far out that it is beyond the view of the mayor's house, Shawn or rather "Shade" Kelly stands with his nephew. The former has his arm around Nate Fuze as they stare at a once grey wall. Now it's coated with a riot of colors.

"Why do you like this place so much?" Nate asks Shade.

Shade looks down at his nephew who is evaluating each section of the wall at a time.

"I don't know, Nate. Maybe it's because it's expressive. Each piece of artwork tells the artist's story, each is unique," Shade's black bangs fall over one of his eyes and he blows it away.

"I see. What does this mean?" The eight-year old points to a picture of a man's head. Where his hairline should start there are light blue and pink swirls. Shade stops to think.

"That depends on what _you _think. We all see it differently. To me the swirls symbolize confusion," Shade stops to check the black wristwatch curled around his thin arm. "We should get back to your mom's house. The reaping is in an hour,"

Shade walks Nate to his mother's house, which isn't much. The old wood paneling is rotting and missing in some spots. The concrete floors are cracking. The ceiling leaks. Whenever Shade walks inside it feels like he's been punched in the gut. He works almost all day for _this. _He took plenty of tesserae and this is all it can do.

Allie, Shade's sister and Nate's mother, walks into the living room where her family sits on a single torn couch. Shade notices Allie rubbing her shoulder gently. Her eyes are bloodshot. Shade stands up abruptly and meets Allie halfway.

In a whisper he says, "He hit you again, didn't he?"

When Allie simply looks down at her feet Shade continues, "Dammit! Where is he anyways? GARY!" Allie puts her hand on Shade's shoulder.

"He's not here. He left last night and said he'd be back later today,"

"Tell me when he's here next time, Allie. I need to talk to him,"

Approximately an hour later both Shade and Shay stand at the reaping with the other sixteen year-olds. District Five escort, Whitherly Johners stands on the stage. Her ridiculously colored cotton candy blue hair is pulled atop her head in a bun. Whitherly's eyebrows match the color along with her eyes and lips. The effect is quite scary and with Whitherly's bigger figure she looks like she could be a glob of melting cotton candy.

"Welcome District Five, to your reaping!" She shouts. A couple people in the back boo. After the Dark Days film Whitherly continues with the reaping, "For the girls we have…"

"SHAY CASSIDY!" A dark haired girl gasps and slowly regains herself. She struts upstage, with her nose still high, thinking, _why me?! There are stupid peasants more deserving! _

"Hello love," Whitherly says to Shay. "And for the boys…"

"SHAWN KELLY!" A tall and gangly boy with dark circles under his eyes shows no emotion. The people around him part as he makes it onto the stage. Although on the outside Shade is quiet, inside he's starting a fire of fear.

When Shawn makes it to the microphone he says, "Call me Shade," and drops back.

Then the town's shadow is left looking into the eyes of the town's most royal.

**District Six **_**The Reckless and The Teased**_

_A small hand grabs a couple of bright red berries. Its freckle-faced owner smiles. She pushes her blond hair out of her face and holds the berries as far from her as she possibly can. The girl walks to a fire. Her face flashes into something sinister. There's coldness behind her eyes that wasn't there before. She holds her hand over a goose leg roasting on the fire and crushes the red fruit. Its juices drip over the leg and fall into the fire with a sizzle.  
Slowly the girl hears footsteps headed towards her. She scrambles to wipe her hands off in the grass. Then she hides them behind her back as a boy approaches. He greets his ally with a smile. She returns a grim one, but the boy doesn't catch that his ally has gone frigid. Her eyes are lifeless.  
"You can have the whole thing," The girl nods to the boy who thanks her.  
The boy shakes his brown hair off of his pale skin and takes the leg. He takes a bite of the leg and immediately knows something is wrong. His face puckers from the sour flavor.  
"What did you _do_?" He croaks and falls to his knees.  
His ally's face says it all. She remains silent. Heartless.  
The boy gags, choking. His eyes roll back in his head and before he leaves this world he whispers, barely audible, "Goodbye Metric, you will always be my sister," _

"NO! NO!" Metric Tenure sits straight up in her bed with tears streaming down her face. She screams. Shivers crawl up her body like claws of a beast. "Ty!" She puts her hands over her eyes. Her brother's dead, but not forgotten. His rebellious attitude rubbed off on Metric, but only after death. Before that Metric was a perfect puppet for her father. She didn't ask questions and followed the rules. She didn't even complain about her mother on morphling who was always acting like a hollow version of herself.

Metric shakes her head. She can't do this anymore.

Across town a boy is already up and ready for the day. He pulls his leg back and stretches with a moan.

"Ready Lero?" His instructor asks. Lero Kiva nods. The instructor puts a disk into his music box and a soft sound comes out slowly. Lero rises from the floor and leaps across the room, twirling his body. He does a pirouette when he lands.

"Faster Lero! Keep up with the music!"

Lero continues to dance until the music stops.

Ten minutes later he's out of practice, but outside of the walls there is no break. Outside a rather stout boy stands waiting for him along with a group of kids his age. When Lero exits the stout boy cries, "LOOK IT'S LADY LERO!"

Lero looks down. His heart feels like it's sinking deep inside him, but Lero doesn't falter. He keeps his head up while he walks down the street. Lero doesn't let anyone get to him because although they might think they do, they don't. The bullies who make fun Lero don't know he dances for his paralyzed sister who loved to dance when she could actually move her legs.

Lero doesn't stop walking until he finds himself at the town square.

"Hello my wonderful District," Wanda Smarts smiles. "It is just so wonderful to see all of your wonderful faces! It's a wonder to be here, it really is!" Without another word, Wanda turns the screen on behind her. Pictures of bombs raining onto helpless Districts already struck with poverty flash across the screen. Metric and Lero look away. "Wonderful! Wasn't it?" Nobody responds to Wanda. "Alright then, let's get this thing started," she sighs, suddenly sounding downhearted. Wanda wraps her bony fingers around a sheet of paper. "Ladies go first!"

"ARIAN RICHMOND!" A young girl gasps. Metric sees _it. _The moment Ty volunteered flashes before her eyes. A young boy had been reaped. Metric glances towards her father, who give her a stern look. It's confirmed then.

"I VOLUNTEER!" She shouts. Mr. Tenure shakes his head sadly.

"How wonderful!" Wanda says, happy once more. "What's your name my dear?"

"Metric Tenure," her voice is hollow.

"Wondrous! Now for our gentlemen," Wanda fishes for another name.

"LERO KIVA!" A sixteen year-old boy slowly realizes his name has been said.

"Oh my gosh. I should have done something with my life… anything! My ballet recital is tomorrow! Tommorow of all days.." Lero continues to ramble on and on subconsciously.

"OUR TRIBUTES OF DISTRICT SIX!" Wanda smiles, looking like a deranged patient in an mental ward.

…

Please, please forgive me,  
But I won't be home again.  
I know what you do to yourself,  
I breathe deep and cry out,  
"Isn't something missing?  
Isn't someone missing me?"

**I know a lot of you probably feel like I left out some things on your tribute. That's on purpose! I want to reveal things later on about your tributes for drama.**

**SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! I had so much going on- finals, homework, my mom was in the hospital for a few days (she's fine now:D ) and some other things. But here's the good news- SCHOOL'S OUT! HELLO SUMMER! So now I have lots of extra time for this story. **

SPONSOR QUESTION for 5 pts**- (If ya'll don't have a tribute, tell me who you want me to give it to instead): Who are your top five tributes? Tell me why if you want. Answer in review. Also don't forget about the prompt!**

**Any tributes that you really like, dislike etc.? Any predictions? Favorite quote?**


	4. Reaping Part 2

**LOVE YOU GUYS! THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!:D Yeah, that's right, **_**22**_** frickin' reviews on the first (real) chapter, and let's admit, it's a boring chapter. asdfkajs. SO YEAH, I LOVE YOU! :D**

**I'm sorry ya'll but **_**I don't do train rides**_**. I'll have the Parade, Training Days 1 and 2, Private Sessions, Interviews and Bloodbath Countdown/ Arrival. LAST REAPING CHAPTER! WHOOP! :D**

**This is one of my favorite songs, I changed it to this at the last minute. Please listen to it! It's called "Dear Mr. President" by P!NK. Originally it was about George W. Bush, but I think it suits this story well. Republicans or people who liked him, please don't be offended. This is a beautiful song…**

Dear Mr. President,  
Come take a walk with me.  
Let's pretend we're just two people and  
You're not better than me.  
…

**District Seven **_**The Restless and The Noble**_

"Ayla! Where are you _going_?" Mrs. Forester asks her daughter. Alya Forester looks at her mother with one foot out of the door and the other planted in the house.

"Just going to see Bonsai!" Ayla says exasperated. Her mother's been extra protective recently. Maybe it's because she's getting to the age her mother was when she made mistakes. But seriously, Ayla isn't going to get knocked up at eight in the morning.

"Fine. But you better get back here soon! You need to get ready for the reaping," Ayla nods before closing the door behind her.

The cold morning air nips at Ayla's face. Her small button nose turns red before she's even made it three feet from her house. Although frigid, the air is refreshing.

Dew drops from the grass dot Ayla's shoes. The grass is surprisingly green this year. Normally it becomes crinkly and yellow.

When Ayla meets the chain link fence that guards the woods, she stops and sits down in the grass. Ayla makes sure no one watches her, but like always, the clearing is empty. So, she sits. Waiting for any motion, any sign from the woods. But nothing comes for ten minutes. Twenty. Finally, after thirty minutes of staring into the mysterious woods, draped with darkness, a red figure crawls towards the fence.

"Hey Bonsai," Ayla whispers to the fox. She's sure it's Bonsai; after all, he's the only one that comes to the fence. Her mother used to tell her that before the Dark Days there was no fence. Animals like foxes were commonly seen scurrying across people's yards or rummaging through trashcans to get something to eat.

Ayla carefully sticks her fingers through a hole in the fence. She pets Bonsai between his ears. He closes his eyes. Ayla likes to act like he's smiling.

"Here, I brought you some food," She remembers, digging through her back pocket for a piece of meat. So maybe Bonsai comes for the food, but maybe not. Maybe he just really loves Ayla. Or maybe, like Ayla, he enjoys the company.

After feeding the fox, Ayla sprints back to her house, knowing she should have been back long ago. Her mother's stern face when she enters the room tells her that Mrs. Forester was waiting for her.

_WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! _Barkson Thrine drives his axe into a tall oak tree. The chorus of cracks and heaves and falling trees rings in his ears. There is no rest here. Only work, even on reaping day.

His parents would rather have him training, though. They are afraid of Barkson getting reaped and want him to be prepared, but Barkson refuses. This year, his name is only in the reaping bowl 5 times. If he did training he'd have to quit his job to make time, meaning that he might have to take the tesserae which would earn him an even better chance at getting reaped.

Isn't it ironic? He can either work all his life with a slim chance of going into the Hunger Games, which would be hard for him since he hasn't trained; or he can quit his job with a good chance of going into the Hunger games, which wouldn't be as hard since he did train.

If only there was some happy medium; a way to escape the cycle that imprisons the Districts living in poverty.

"Barkson! Get to work!" Mr. Grover, the axing company's owner snaps Barkson out of his trance.

"Yes, sir!" Barkson nods and continues with his work. He can remember when the large axe was heavy in his hands. The wooden handle was slippery with his sweat. The trees looked much taller, they were earthly giants. But now they are stripped of their limbs- the branches that would sway in the hollow wind. Now there are only stumps where the giants once stood. Now the forest has shrunk in size, but rationed to all the wood supplies in District Seven, it isn't much. There are enough trees now to last for hundreds of years.

Barkson's chops fall in time with the other workers around him.

* * *

"Hello District Seven!" Walter Ronan, an escort, says a good hour later. Walter is unlike most escorts. He's quiet. So, without further ado, he turns on the Dark Days clip. Most of the citizens turn away or close their eyes. A few others watch in awe mixed with shear horror. Mothers cover their children's eyes. Finally, it's over.

"Girls," says Walter laconically. He picks a slip of paper out of the reaping bowl like it is a delicate flower and announces,

"AYLA FORESTER!" A small figured girl looks like a ghost. Her skin pales and her eyes grow. She looks trapped in her body, like she wants to move but cannot. She begins to walk to the stage rigidly. None of this is yet real to her.

"BARKSON THRINE!" Walter calls again. Ayla hasn't even gotten to the stage.

A sixteen year-old stands in shock. The mathematical odds _weren't _in his favor! There was practically no chance of him getting reaped! Yet he was.

Barkson doesn't move for a whole minute. The people next to him are starting to stare. Barkson finally musters up his courage and begins the trek to the stage, looming before him.

**District Eight **_**The Rebel and The Optimistic**_

Bobbin Garment drums her fingers on her knee, hidden underneath the table. She sits in a matching oak chair across from her grandmother.

"My sweet, sweet Bobbin!" She clasps Bobbin's hands in her own. Bobbin can see the tears hidden behind her crystal blue eyes. She hasn't seen her grandmother this since the rebellion; so antsy. But it's understandable.

"I'm going to miss you, but father can take care of you," Bobbin reminds her. Grandmother's husband passed in the rebellion along with Bobbin's mother. They were victims of a surprise bombing in the first half of the war. The Garment family were die-hard rebels, fighting the Capital; that was until the bombings of course. After that Grandma and father decided to remain neutral. But not Bobbin. She won't let the Capital stomp over her.

"Until you get back," she pushes. Bobbin nods. "Okay dear, I didn't bring you here to distract you from your important day, I wanted to give you something." Grandmother lets go of Bobbin's hands and reaches inside her bag. She fishes out a shiny gold object and holds it out to her granddaughter. "It was your grandfather's."

Bobbin doesn't need an explanation. She picks up the golden pocket watch and inspects it carefully. Bobbin's hand trembles. The time is frozen. The exact moment the bombs rained down and changed her life. Bobbin can barely say a 'thank-you' before she's whisked off again.

Bobbin's next stop is Daisy Stitch's house. Sweet perfume flows out of Daisy's room like a river.

"Hi! Bobbin! I have the _perfect _dress for you," Daisy grins. She volunteered to find Bobbin a dress for the reaping, for a very important reason. Bobbin is going to be reaped. The Insorgo-Insurgi-Insurrectum has practically guaranteed it. The Insurgi is a secret rebel society in the bowels of District Eight. It formed shortly after the rebellion. The group has trained Bobbin in their own academy and readied her for the Games. There was supposed to be another boy with her, Matt. But only months ago there was a slip. A peacekeeper found out that Matt would volunteer next year and lead the rebels once again, so he went to the mayor who made the call to kill the boy. Matt was attacked by a swarm of tracker jackers, "a tragic accident." But the Insurgi were not fazed. Bobbin wasn't exposed, so she would continue, although the Insurgi needed to be careful. So instead of volunteering, Bobbin will hopefully be reaped. She took 145 tesserae this year to practically guarantee it.

"Thanks," Bobbin mumbles, the dress was not her idea. To her, a tee shirt and pair of shorts would work just fine, but the Insurgi wants an image, for Bobbin to stand out.

"No problem," Daisy hands Bobbin the crimson red piece of clothing. It's sleeveless and falls below her knees.

Bobbin breathes in the sickly sweet perfume before heading out the door and going to the reaping.

Thorn Cotton, located in a small but cozy house on top of a hill, taps his fingers against his window. The drumming rain against his rooftop echoes his fingers. The green walls seem sickening to Thorn, although normally the soft color comforts him. But today it's too much. The slightest thing overwhelms Thorn. Behind him, the light wooden floors groan.

"Hi Thorn," Mrs. Cotton rest a hand on Thorn's shoulder. Thorn turns his head to look at his mother. Her dirty blond hair and hazel eyes match his own.

"Hi mom," Thorn regrets the sadness in his voice.

"How are you? I know today's a big day for you," She moves her hand to Thorn's head and ruffles his hair.

"I'm okay!" He tries to perk up. The reaping isn't that bad. At least baby Dannie is safe. But either way someone will be reaped. Someone's family will have to learn to adapt without them shortly after having their loved one ripped from their arms. Someone won't come home today. Someone will be broadcasted, watched, observed by the Capital for entertainment. The thought brings a foul taste to Thorn's mouth. None of this is fair. But Thorn's been careful not to take his anger out on his family. It isn't their fault. Nor is it anyone's fault in the District.

"Good. But promise me you won't worry, Thorn. There's nothing you can do, and worrying won't help anyone," Mrs. Cotton tells her son firmly. Thorn nods absentmindedly.

"You're right. There's nothing I can do,"

* * *

An all-too-short hour later and the reaping has commenced. Thorn Cotton, afraid of a fate unknown, and Bobbin Garment, ready for her destiny to unfold, stand at different ends in the mob of District Eight citizens.

"My friends of District Eight, I present to you the moment of truth!" Elanora Locket smiles into the crowd of melancholy. The Dark Days video has already flashed across the screen. There's no point to the video- everyone knows why the Hunger Games take place. The memories that are scarred into their brains are worse than the video.

"Ladies first!" Elanora sticks her hand into the reaping bowl. She taunts the crowd, taking her time. Bobbin stands alert, her hands fidget in her pockets. It has to be her…

"BOBBIN GARMENT!" Elanora blares.

The girl reaped has an expression of triumph on her face. But soon it disappears, before anyone can register it or contemplate the meaning. Bobbin puts a hand over her mouth and gawks. Luckily the Insurgi taught her how to play the part of a scared little girl.

"Now for the boys…" Elanora digs out another name from the reaping bowl.

"THORN COTTON!"

A fourteen year-old boy freezes. This isn't happening. He'll pinch himself and wake up in his bed with Dannie lying beside him. The boy squeezes his eyes shut, the only movement his body will allow. There isn't enough air in his lungs to render a scream. There's nothing to do but stand in utter shock.

It doesn't take long for the peacekeepers to haul the skinny boy onto the stage. When his feet touch the concrete underneath him, Thorn snaps out of it. Subconsciously, his feet lift from the stage. At first he thinks he's flying, soaring to safety. But moments later his feet slam onto the ground. Not flying, running. That's what he's doing.

A chorus of feet slapping the concrete echoes behind him. The peacekeepers aren't far off. He can feel them breathing down his neck. Thorn panics and changes direction, steering to his left, towards the crowd attending the reaping. Maybe he can hide.

But before Thorn makes it to the crowd a jolt of electricity pulses through his veins. A hollow scream fills his ears. _Now I'm falling. _He tells himself as he tumbles to the ground. His cheek slaps the asphalt hard. Tiny pieces of gravel attach to his skin. His body fidgets like it's controlled by an outer source. Like a puppet.

The peacekeepers lift the unconscious boy into their arms, ready to haul him off the train. Looks like Thorn won't get any last goodbyes.

**District 9 **_**The Double and The Silent**_

Daphne Cornwall, who sometimes goes by Magenta, stands in her kitchen and examines her long chestnut colored hair. She sighs, picking out a lock of hair with purple dye still coated over it. Daphne rushes to the nearby sink and washes it out.

"Stupid Magenta," she mumbles a curse under her breath. Magenta is Daphne's alternate personality. It's hard to imagine that Magenta, a wild child, could change so quickly to a persnickety girl with an uptight attitude.

Daphne is greeted by her sister, Naya. With just a glance Naya can tell which personality her sibling is. Magenta always has a sparkle in her eyes that Daphne seems to lack while her head is high in the sky.

"Hello Daphne, how are you?"

"Fine," Daphne sticks up her nose. Her sister isn't what she used to be. Daphne can remember when she was kind, a rule follower. But she's changed completely over the past few years, becoming more and more rebellious. Daphne can hardly associate with her anymore. What if someone judged her for being related to anyone less than perfect? Her friends have graciously forgiven her multiple personality disorder, but would they be so generous if Naya went completely rouge? The thought sends icy chills running through Daphne's body.

"Are you ready for the reaping?" Naya's voice hints at irritation, but she's remained strong for her sister.

"Do I _look _ready? I haven't even brushed my teeth yet!" Daphne cries

"Alright, alright!" Naya throws her hands up.

Daphne sighs, maybe she should try to be nicer to her. She's really the only family she can bond with. Her mother won't even admit that her daughter has a disorder and will only ever refer to her as 'Daphne.' Not that Daphne should really mind. And for her father- he died when she was six. That's what started this whole thing. Normally children the develop multiple personality disorder from especially traumatic events. Most of the time it wouldn't result from only parent's death. But before that Daphne's life had been so sheltered that she wasn't prepared for any type of loss, whether it was her pet goldfish or her father.

Farther along in the District, closer to the town square, a tall boy leans against his sister's bedroom wall. Xander Bells cracks a smile.

"Promise me that you'll wait for me after the reaping. I'll want to talk to you, okay?" He asks his sister.

"Sure! I'm kind of nervous, Xander," Cassie raises her eyebrows. Cassie's practically blind. She can see blurry objects and colors, but nothing more. Recently the family has been given the news that there is nothing that can be done. Before that Cassie had been assured that if she wore glasses for a few years she would maintain some of her sight once more. But nothing worked. The glasses got her picked on, not for long though. A boy a year older than Xander was used to shove her over and taunt her. But Cassie's big brother would allow it. The bully had an "accident" a few days later with a well-earned bloody nose.

Not that Cassie found out about Xander's involvement. Xander wanted and still wants his sister to see him as a gentle giant.

"You'll be _fine. _12 year-olds are never reaped! And if by some off-chance you are, I'll make sure someone takes your place," Xander crouches next to Cassie and strokes her shoulder.

"What if you're reaped?"

"Then I'll just have to fight extra hard to come home. But don't worry, I won't leave you,"

* * *

Ten minutes later and the reaping has begun. Aphrodite Melon has already played the gruesome footage from the Dark Days, and now she's tapping her heel obnoxiously while her hand plucks a name from the reaping bowl.

"DAPHNE CORNWALL!" A fifteen year-old girl's scream pierces the air like a dagger. She feels her limbs turn to jelly, her body boneless. The girl crumples onto the floor. White-suited peacekeepers swarm her and lift her to her feet. One carries her onto the stage and plops her down next to the escort.

Aphrodite's nose twitches with disgust. She fishes out another name from the bowl and reads it.

"XANDER BELLS!" A dark haired boy gathers himself easily and walks towards the stage with a grace. His blue eyes remain staring ahead of him.

He knows doing anything like the girl before him did would certainly be considered a weakness.

**District Ten **_**The Blind and The Father**_

Vesper Wednesday sits in her room. It's like any other day. She's not alone, but in a way she is. Her family is always kind to her. They make Vesper feel needed and loved. But they don't always understand her, no matter how hard they try. They don't know what it's like to be blind.

Six years ago, when Vesper was seven, the world went dark. Vesper's sight gradually diminished until she saw nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Wednesday tried everything they could to keep Vesper from going blind. They sold the ranch, worked extra and did everything, but it was too expensive to put money into something that may not even work! Vesper hates thinking about their sacrifices, it makes her feel guilty. Even Raven, fourteen at the time, signed up for a job- a horrible one.

But nothing came out of it. That's what hits Vesper hardest. Her family gave it all up for nothing. _Nothing. _

Vesper shakes her head in an attempt to clear her brain.

"Vezzy?" Vesper recognizes the voice- Violet, her twin sister. They have another twin, Alistair, so technically they're triplets.

"Hey Vi!" Vesper perks up.

"Hey! Just letting you know, the reaping is in ten minutes, you might want to start getting ready! Mom says she picked an outfit for you to wear- it's on your bed,"

Vesper nods, "Okay, thanks! I'll meet you downstairs when I'm ready,"

In a townhouse across from the square where the reaping is held each year, Atticus Fletcher holds his fiancé's hands. The ring wrapped around one finger brings back memories, as sweet as sugar. Sandra Stevens smiles at Atticus. Her perfectly pearly white teeth seem to shine.

To Atticus, Sandra is everything. Her blond locks of hair frame her face- pretty as a picture. Her cherry red lips are always pulled into a smile. Sandra's brown eyes are deep with emotion, something Atticus likes best about her.

"I promise, Sandra, you'll be alright. No one would let you go into those Games!" Atticus tells her. His voice is calm but firm. No one would let Sandra into the Games, at least Atticus likes to think, because she's pregnant with her and Atticus's first child. Their wedding date is set a few weeks after the baby should be due.

"Are you sure?" She asks, blinking her eyes.

"Yes. I'm positive,"

They've had the same talk for the past four years. Each time Atticus has to reassure Sandra that she'll be fine.

"Okay. But what if something happens to you, Atticus? What would I do then?"

Atticus gives a nervous laugh. "Sandra, I promise I won't let anything happen to us,"

"But what if you're reaped?" She persists.

"Then I guess we'll get a new house somewhere in the Victor's Village. Come on Sandra, have some faith,"

* * *

Nero Houth stands on stage. His hands hover above the reaping bowls. Nero's crystal blue eyes dart around the crowd nervously. His nose twitches. The Dark Days video has already played.

"Let's do them both at the same time, shall we?!" Nero's quick voice quivers. He doesn't wait for a response. Nero digs into each bowl and picks a slip in each hand.

"VESPER WEDNESDAY!" A small girl shrieks. The arena won't make a good home for a blind girl. Slowly, the girl regains herself and walks to the stage on nervous feet. Just as her foot touches, Nero reads the next name.

"ATTICUS FLETCHER!" Before the boy can even process, a girl screams.

"ATTICUS!" She calls, and tries to reach for her fiancé. A group of peacekeepers step in, pushing the girl back to be eaten up by the crowd.

"Sandra!" The boy's attempt is half-hearted. He knows he can't do anything now, he's trapped. So, Atticus Fletcher walks to the stage with a tear in his eye.

The father and the blind are forced to grab hands and raise them to the sky.

**District Eleven **_**The Benevolent and The Hopeful**_

In District Eleven, things are far from perfect. Peacekeepers aren't afraid, or even hesitant, to shoot young children if they aren't doing exactly what they are told. Work in the orchards is tiring with the hot sun beating down day after day. The water offers no sanctuary- it is often infested or dirty.

Why then, does Robin Cade have a grin on her face? Her white teeth gleam in contrast from her velvety dark skin. She sits perched on an apple tree, sitting on one of the durable branches. The tree's bright green leaves shield her from the eyes of the peacekeepers who watch over the orchard.

Robin hums a chirpy song in her head. Today's the day for change. The day her life could be altered forever. Who knew two little words could do so much? Volunteering would never have been in Robin's thoughts until a few weeks ago.

_The Cade family gathered around their humble home. Robin looked at each of their faces, hopeful but also there was pity. Her siblings Wren, Jay and the twins- Palila and Merle looked down at the ground, none of them wanted to look into her eyes. Robin and her mother had been to the doctor that day. Now they were returning with the news.  
Robin couldn't bear to look at their faces anymore. She looked at her mother in desperation- _tell them! _Mrs. Cade nodded as if she heard Robin's thoughts and stepped into the center of the room and cleared her throat. The family turned to look at her expectantly.  
"She can't be treated. We don't have enough money," Her voice was low, pathetic like the awful 'puke-green' drapes across the living room windows.  
"It's okay though! I mean, at least I know it's coming and I can spend my last days with you instead of poor Mark Walter who died in his sleep," Robin smiled. _

And now she's found another escape. Becoming a victor would save her life in so many ways; but what Robin doesn't realize is it could also be the death of her eternal optimism.

Keegan Hale sits on the wooden porch on the front of his house. Somewhere in the distance his brother, Parish holds his cupped hand out. He's waiting for the animals to come, as they always do. Keegan taps his foot nervously. He or his brother could be reaped today! How does Parish not notice the anxiety in the air?

Mr. Hale made Keegan and Parish take tesserae even though they don't need it. Keegan scornfully clenches his fists, but keeps the rest of his anger inside him. How could his father admire the Capital? It doesn't seem possible to Keegan. Luckily though, both Keegan and Parish disagree with their father.

_But he's so oblivious! _He sees only the good- the luxuries, the interviews, the victor; but turns the other cheek for the Hunger Games themselves. To Keegan, no matter how the Capital skirts around the idea of killing children there will always be bloodshed and terrible loss.

Keegan's eyes turn to Parish. Now three squirrels slowly approach him, ready to scatter if he makes any sudden movements. The electrical fence is never on anymore. Maybe because the Capital stopped caring about District Eleven a long time ago. Or maybe they know that no one would dare escape to the dark forest, crawling with terrible creatures. Or perhaps the Capital secretly _wants _them to die trying to escape. Either seems a reasonable option to Keegan.

With a jolt, Mrs. Hale opens the door.

"Time to get ready, boys!" She calls, mostly to Parish. Mrs. Hale's smile is hollow. Somewhere inside her she disagrees with her husband, but she's never shown it.

* * *

Missy Alrose pompously struts to the reaping bowls. She's already shown the video from the Dark Days to the undeserving peasants. If it was up to her she'd send them all to the slaughterhouse. _And _there would be no victor. She doesn't like winners for reasons she won't explain. That's why she escorts District Eleven, because here there are no winners.

"Ladies first," She says in her thick accent. Missy greedily takes a slip from the bowl and unfurls it.

"MAYA WINTERS!"

Without a moment's hesitation, a voice calls, "I VOLUNTEER!"

Missy looks taken aback as a small girl meets her. "I'm Robin Cade," she says into the microphone.

Missy figures there's something _off _about her. The other volunteers, the ones from the higher Districts have a look in their eyes- pride, confidence, strength. But this girl looks different. She smiles, but her eyes are sad, like volunteering is her only chance. But why?

Missy shakes her head, that's enough thinking for one day. She reaches into the reaping bowl and grabs another name.

"KEEGAN HALE!" A taller boy shakes his head. Other than that however, he is calm. The boy puts up a façade of peace, but inside him something lurks- anger. Because in the front row his father is smiling. _Smiling. _His son is getting reaped for the Hunger Games and he _smiles. _Keegan clenches his fists, but keeps up with his mask.

"The tributes of District Eleven!" Missy says sadly, because this year the District may have a winner.

**District Twelve **_**The Candid and The Broken**_

A girl's long legs push off the narrow concrete path. It's old and crumbling, but good enough for Four Malfoy. The frigid wind pushes her strawberry blond hair from her face. Four runs through the District daily, but now she runs to keep her mind off of the reaping. Running is her escape route. There's nothing better than the feeling- freedom. In a District so dreary, it's hard to find.

Four runs by the mines. Rickety elevators are bringing the miners, covered in soot, to the surface so they can meet with their family before the reaping. That means her father will be home soon.

Four continues to push herself. Today she wants to run for longer than usual. Normally after running for this long she gets a cramp, or her legs feel boneless like jelly. But not now. Today is the day she goes farther. And every time she's tempted to stop faces flash across her vision. They taunt her, tell her that she isn't good enough for them, that she isn't smart enough for school. Four shakes her head. She'll prove them wrong.

So she keeps running.

_Mrs. and Mr. Houston hold hands with their two sons. The rebellion is over, the Capital has not fallen. The family stands in front of two primly dressed men, each in a black suit. Seven year-old William and his three year-old brother stand with their parents. Each has a heavy chain tied around their left leg that attaches to the floor.  
Will knows that his family is in trouble. He can see it in his mother's eyes. Feel the cold metal against his ankle. Hear his parent's hushed and frantic whispers. He remembers when the Capital hauled them in as prisoners of war.  
When the man to the left speaks, his voice is smooth, "You have defied the Capital in many ways. Therefore you will be punished," He looks directly at Will's parents. "Killing the Houston family would be too easy, too quick. The President himself has come up with a far greater punishment. As you know, in the Hunger Games two children will be reaped per District, a boy and a girl. The reaping is random, the tributes selected from a bowl. But, for these special circumstances, we will rig the reaping. One reaping day a Houston child will be picked."_

William Houston's eyes snap open. His heart pounds underneath his pajamas. He has haunting nightmares often, but this… this wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory.

* * *

An hour later Marika Forthan is on the reaping stage. She has her nose turned upwards. If only she could escort District Four again. Anything other than this would be okay. She wonders how these people can live such hollow lives. It seems all they do is work! And after all that working they still complain about not getting enough food. She cringes- some people are so spoiled!

After showing the District a clip from the Dark Days, Marika stands in from of the reaping bowl, with her glossy pink her heel clicking.

"As you know, ladies first!" She chirps and pulls out a name from the reaping bowl.

"FOUR MALFOY!" The world stops. The sixteen year-old squeezes her eyes shut. This is a test. Just another test to power through, to show herself that she's strong. Four staggers onto the stage with a hard expression over her face. She looks away awkwardly, not wanting to see anyone in the crowd.

"Now for the gentlemen!" Marika cheers.

"WILLAIM HOUSTON!" A boy the same age as Four blinks twice. He isn't surprised. Of course, he was told that he or one of his two other siblings would be reaped.

He's just glad that it's him.

Dear Mr. President,  
Come take a walk with me.  
Let's pretend we're just two people and  
You're not better than me.

**Sorry District 12 is bad... *tear***

**Remember, I left things out on purpose! (Mostly for Bobbin, Thorn, Daphne, Valentina, Robin, Jules, Atticus, Four, William , and Lero) That's because this is a story about your characters, not a summary where I reveal everything at once:). The interviews will give a bit away, same with training and talking to allies, and first person POVs. :D Can't wait!**

**ERMAGERD! CAPITAL'S NEXT! WHOO! I can't even explain the relief I'm feeling… other than 'askdjf sdfasdfhasd' :D I promise that now there will be **_**faster**_** (way faster) updates and sadly slightly shorter chapters with better quality. I mean, I could make them have longer chapters, but that would take a while. I promise to make each more than 2 thousand words though. I will never go below that, and I'm really trying to work on description, *cough cough* Kat *cough* ;) Also, I know there are lots of fragments in my writing, but they are on purpose for effect. Big girl writers do it all the time :D (wow, I'm weird…)**

**By the way, I changed the cover image. Do you like this one? Or should I change it back?**

Sponsor Points (2) (remember if you want to give your points to someone else, say so ): Top five tributes for THIS reaping and top five OVERALL. There's a tribute list at the bottom for reference. Thanks;) I'm adding up all them points. ;) And don't forget the prompt, 'Frozen in Time' I've gotten some wonderful ones so far!

More Sponsor Points (1)- Tell me ONE tribute you'd like to ally with- think personality, age, skills, District, etc. (Districts 1, 2, and 4 are Careers. No exceptions, I'm sorry). Also I probably won't be able to give you the ally you pick, but I will try!

**Anything else you want to tell me like favorite quote/ predictions etc. I'd love to hear it! Also tell me which Capital chapter (parade, training 1 and 2, private sessions, interview or bloodbath countdown) you'd prefer your character to have! (Unfortunately, you may not get your choice…) And does anyone know any good synonyms for walk. I noticed I kept saying 'she walked on stage' and it was boring! I need to spice it upp!**

**If you're ever like, "Wow, this girl isn't updating!" Head over to my profile, I have a little spot to tell you when I hope to update, why it took me so long, the latest I will update and what's including in my next chappie! Yep!:)**

**-OFFICIAL TRIBUTE LIST-**

**Reaping Part One**

1M- Jules Gilded- _The Misunderstood  
_1F- Sprite Winters- _The Lithe_

2M- Scott Jameson- _The Underestimated  
_2F- Dessiah Martin- _The Kind_

3M- Nikolai Bendix- _The Liar  
_3F- Valentina Bolt- _The Solitary_

4M- Caspias Destin- _The Brave  
_4F- Katrina 'Katri' Greene- _The Rejected_

5M- Shawn 'Shade' Kelly- _The Shadow  
_5F- Shay Cassidy- _The Spoiled_

6M- Lero Kiva- _The Teased  
_6F- Metric Tenure- _The Reckless_

**Reaping Part Two**

7M- Barkson Thrine- _The Noble_  
7F- Ayla Forester- _The Restless_

8M- Thorn Cotton- _The Optimistic  
_8F- Bobbin Garment- _The Rebel_

9M- Xander Bells- _The Silent  
_9F- Daphne 'Magenta' Cornwall- _The Double_

10M- Atticus Fletcher- _The Father  
_10F- Vesper 'Vezzy' Wednesday- _The Blind_

11M- Keegan Hale- _The Hopeful_  
11F- Robin Cade- _The Benevolent_

12M- William 'Will' Houston- _The Broken_  
12F- Four Malfoy- _The Candid_


	5. The Tribute Parade

**So… the Capital chapters are hard for me to start… wish me luck… and thank you so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it! Thanks! This song is 'Sugar We're Goin Down' by Fall Out Boys.**

We're going down, down in an earlier round  
And Sugar, we're going down swinging  
I'll be your number one with a bullet  
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it  
…

**Caspias Destin **_**The Brave**_

When I first stepped off the train I was blinded by light and made deaf by the hollers of Capital citizens. They shouted my name over and over. Reporters stood on the edges of the small path to the building where we would get dressed for the chariots. The whole situation overwhelmed me. If the Capital doesn't call that a welcome, I'm afraid for the parade. I remember Katrina strutted behind me. I turned around once and caught arrogance on her face. Her nose was tilted upwards and her eyes were focusing on a point ahead of us. She had the slightest smirk on her face. I suppose she's one of _them. _I shouldn't be surprised, District Four is full of aspiring victors, most of which fall flat on their faces in the arena. They raise hope for the District, but usually end in loss.

Not that I know anything about hope, people believing in me. Sure, my parents tell me they think I have a chance, but no one else is relying on me to bring home a victory. District Four has their eyes on Katrina this year. I don't blame them, she's tough, I can tell just by looking at her. She doesn't show much emotion, she didn't even look nervous on the train.

Now I sit on a plush red velvet chair in my stylist's room. I wear only a white robe. Feeling exposed, I glance around the room. My stylist left a few minutes ago, telling me he had my costume ready. The metallic walls of the room are shiny. I can barely make out my blurry reflection. I look small compared to the tall mirror in front of me and the large chair I sit on. The pure white floor contradicts the walls and the modern look of the room. It's the type of flooring I would see in my classroom.

"Caspias? Are you ready?" I turn around to find my stylist, Ze, holding a massive costume. I can make out a shimmering blue fabric intertwined by fishing nets.

I nod and begin to stand up.

"No, no! I come to you," Ze beings to stumble towards me with the cumbersome clothing. Before he reaches me he nearly trips.

"Undress!" Ze signals me to remove my robe. I slip it off and lay it on the floor. My stylist nods, running an orange hand through his short green hair. "It will fit!" he declares and holds out a blue full-body suit that looks a size too small. I take it and within minutes I'm covered in the glistening and stretchy fabric. There is only one hole that exposes my face. My hair is matted down to my scalp and my whole body hurts from the scrubbing and cleaning. I gawk at myself in the mirror. I look ridiculous! Although, I'm aware of Ze's goal. The blue cloth shimmers from reflecting the harsh light from the room. It looks like a body of water.

"Hold still!" Ze claps his hands and picks up a long line of rope from the floor. He begins to wrap in around my aching body. When he's finished he smiles broadly and puts his hands in the air.

I turn to the mirror and see a boy unlike me. He's bulky and handsome. This boy is confident, smart, strong- a victor.

My thoughts are interrupted, once again, by Ze, "Don't mess this up! The outfit is brilliant. Very complimentary to your," he makes motions with his hands, "figure."

"Thank you," I mutter. It isn't much, but I don't think I'll be showing any gratitude to the Capital anytime soon.

"Now we must walk. We will meet up with Katrina and her stylist, Pompi, and move to the chariots! This is so exciting!" Ze's angular face shows his eagerness. His orange skin glows and his green eyes sparkle. There's wonderment in them not unlike the eyes of a child- pure and innocent.

Ze places a firm hand on my back, ushering me to the hallway. Across from my stylist's room is an identical room. Katrina and her stylist step out of it.

Katrina wears the same attire as me. The only real difference is her hair. Her normally long brown hair is wound up the back of her head, forming tiny elaborate spirals. It's been sprayed with sparkles, giving it an ocean-like effect.

When she catches me looking at her she raises an eyebrow. Her judgmental green eyes glisten with anticipation.

"Walk, tributes!" Ze cries and pushes the both of us through the narrow hallway. We don't catch sight of any of the other tributes on our way to the Chariots since our dressing rooms are close to the end of the hall. Still, Katrina smiles even though there's no one to watch her but me. We enter the clearing of the hall and exit to a towering room. The ceilings consist of paintings with wide brush strokes. There aren't any images, just designs, swirls, jagged colors.

"Here we are!" Ze grins and points to a black coated chariot with a gold metallic '4' painted on each side. Two matching black horses are attatched to the front, waiting impatiently to take off.

Katrina and I hop on, ready to start the first milestone at the Capital.

**Robin Cade **_**The Benevolent**_

Keegan and I sit mounted on our chariot, awaiting our arrival. Our outfits are typical for District Eleven- orchard workers complete with jean overalls and lots of red and white plaid. Our shoes are dark brown boots, pulled up to the halfway point between our ankles and knees. My hair is twisted into two pigtail braids. Green vines wrap around my limbs, holding me into position. Keegan is dressed the same as me, but instead of giving him a look of innocence, it makes him look strong.

He's nice enough, I mean Keegan. He stares at me though, like I'm crazy. I think it's because I volunteered. That combined with the fact I'm fourteen; he's a good two years older than me. He probably doesn't think it is right that he's forced to go into the Hunger Games… and then there's me, waltzing up to the stage and declaring that _I _should be thrown in with him. I wouldn't like it either. I'd be jealous that someone else had a choice to enter.

But he doesn't know that really, I don't have a choice.

_Three months to live, _that's what my neighbor told me. He also said I could be cured, but the procedure would cost too much. I have a weak heart. One that can't stand much physical activity. Eventually it will give out on me.

So I could either die slowly one day, or I could fight it. Becoming a victor would make me rich; I would have enough money for surgery.

The way I see it, I'm lucky. I have a choice to change my fate unlike most of the unfortunate tributes.

We are told that we will start soon, but I still don't know how I will react to the hollering Capital. I don't know how I _should _react.

My eyes dart to each tribute before me. The two in the first chariot for District One are dressed in all white. Halos float over their heads and wings shoot out of their backs. I'd suppose it would be uncomfortable. I'd rather wear these scratchy vines any day. The girl from One doesn't look very intimidating. She's small and wide-eyed, making me think that the angelic costumes were meant mostly for her since District One doesn't exactly have the reputation of being pure and sweet. Even though she's small, she sits up straight and offers anyone who looks at her a sour glare. The boy next to her is bulky. The two appear to be polar opposites. The boy's hard glare shoots from tribute to tribute.

I move to the next chariot, District Two. Both tributes wear silver and gold armor that looks heavy. The weight seems to be crushing the female tribute as her back is slightly arched over. The girl, once again, doesn't appear to be a threat, although she doesn't seem to be as confident as the girl from District One. She doesn't look any of the other tributes in the eye and even shrugs away from her District partner. The boy is skinnier than most tributes I've seen from District Two. Although, I recall watching him volunteer.

I pass District Three, as they are not usually a threat, but make a mental note to return to them later.

District Four is dressed in shimmery blue costumes that throw light around the room. Heavy rope is draped over their bodies. The Girl from Four has an eerie grin on her face. There is viciousness in her eyes. Even from a distance I can see that she means harm. The boy looks far less frightening. He looks down at his feet.

_Isn't that odd? _I think to myself. Usually the tributes from the upper Districts are strong, intimidating, threatening. But the only tributes that fit into these categories are the Boy from One and the Girl from Four. Maybe this year the underdogs will have a better chance. Maybe this year will belong to District Eleven.

Keegan nudges my shoulder lightly, but a metal vine leaf pokes my skin and I wince. "Sorry," he says in regard to my arm, "What do you think of the tributes this year?"

I hesitate, _why should I tell him? _But in the end I shrug and say, "They seem less threatening. I feel bad, there are so many young tributes in this year! Surely they'll die,"

Keegan nods, "I was thinking the same thing. The lower Districts look stronger. Maybe this year we'll have a chance,"

**Thorn Cotton **_**The Optimist**_

A shiver crawls through my body. I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. The District One carriage has already traveled through the wide doors to the outside. From my spot in the District Eight chariot I can see the District One tributes' outfits slip off from the television sets lining the walls of the warehouse. Underneath the angel costume they wear black. The male is in a dark suit with a pitchfork in his left hand. The female wears a skimpy dress with a long pointed tail. How this relates to District One's industry, I'm not sure.

The crowd shrieks in awe. District One has already wowed them. The Capital will be rooting for these tributes simple because of their stylist.

My outfit isn't much- Bobbin and I wear white suits with patches slapped on at random. Nothing elaborate like District One. Nothing new. Nothing noticeable.

But maybe if Bobbin and I smile and wave and look wonderful the Capital will start to believe we are. After all, they aren't the brightest.

By now District Two has passed through the doors. The citizens cheer them on too, shouting the names of the tributes frantically.

District Three follows, carrying a tall female tribute with dagger eyes and a small male who doesn't have the presence she does. Most of the crowd cheers 'Valentina' over and over. I don't hear the boy's name.

In the District Four chariot holds another female built like a warrior. She keeps her head forward. She looks strong. The male with her appears nervous and a bit jittery.

District Five come next. I need to remember to be careful of them. Last year the District Five female won. The girl is pompous, grinning at the crowd as if they are her people. She looks like she belongs in the Capital, or seems to think so. The boy doesn't show much emotion so it's hard to read him. His stony eyes stare straight forward and ignore the crowd, although a small smirk appears on his face.

District Six comes galloping after. The girl waves to the crowd. The screen shows her mumble something to her District partner, but the microphones don't pick it up over the Capital's cheers. The girl looks confident without being arrogant. She has a likeable quality about her. The boy next to her smiles lightly and successfully catches a rose thrown at the chariot, bringing a roar from the crowd.

Bobbin and I are nearing the exit. My hands nervously tap the side of the chariot, stirring the black horses. Bobbin shoots me a look of pity.

"It'll be okay, Thorn. This is the easy part. They'll love you no matter what," She offers me a grin.

"Thanks," I reply over the Capital citizens. District Seven shoots through the exit with a pleasant-looking girl and a strong boy. The girl smiles and waves just like she's probably been told to. The boy grins happily. He even flexes.

Suddenly, our chariot is lurched forward, forcing me to lean over. Bobbin takes my hand and helps me recover. When we enter the chariot runway an explosion of cheering rushes to my ears. I close my eyes for a moment, blocking out the blinding light. I feel the sensation of motion. My stomach feels like it's filled with water.

Bobbin whispers to me, "Smile!" Oh, right… that's what I'm supposed to be doing. I open my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light, and give the surrounding crowd the biggest smile I can muster. I'm surrounded by color. The people. The outfits. Everything is colorful.

"THORN!" They cheer, encouraging me. I wave to the section that said my name. Crimson red roses fly at the chariot. Only a few make it far enough to Bobbin and I to land inside. I bend down and pick one up, waving it to the crowd. They roar.

So this is what it's like to be worshipped. Even if I ran off the reaping stage, even if I'm small, even if I'm fourteen; they still cheer me on. Is it weird that I'm enjoying this? Just this moment of happiness before I'm shipped off to the arena?

**Four Malfoy **_**The Candid**_

District Twelve is always last.

Last in the string of Districts.

Last chariot.

Last place.

So naturally, it's hard to keep my head up when it's always going to be pushed back down. I don't even get why the Capital even gives us a chance- not that I don't have hope for my District or myself. I know they don't believe in our strength.

Maybe one day District Twelve will show the Capital.

Sadly though, I don't think that will be soon.

My District partner, Will, and I are dressed per usual. Black dust covers our faces. We are supposed to look like miners. We even have faux pickaxes in our hands. Will and I don't speak much. It's like we have a mutual agreement not to bother each other with busy chatter. We don't hide the fact that we might kill each other by the end of the week.

District Nine plunges through the doors to the runway. Both its tributes are shown on the television screens on the walls. The girl smiles and waves like most, but her District partner keeps a stony expression, waving occasionally. I can tell the girl is afraid of him; she inches away from the boy.

District Ten goes next. The girl smiles, but doesn't wave. I notice her eyes are glazed over with a mystic fog- she's blind. The boy is very short. His face and body look mature, yet he appears to be 5 feet tall at the most.

Following is District Eleven with a smiling girl. The odd thing is, she actually look happy; unlike most tributes who put on a smile for the show. I remember her reaping- she volunteered. Not very smart. The boy next to her waves and smiles. Hi smile is hollow.

Finally, it is my turn- District Twelve's turn. My ears fill with the noise from the overwhelming crowd as we approach. I give them a small half-smile. I see Will wave to his side. Roses rain down on us. The whole chariot ride seems a blur.

By the end of the runway, our chariot jolts to a stop in-between Districts One and Eleven. The Girl from One gives me a snooty look. She's going down eventually. The chariots are arranged in a circle underneath the President's mansion. A long balcony protrudes from the house. The President himself stands before us.

The crowd still hasn't ceased the applaud, so the President gestures for them to stop.

"Welcome tributes!" He calls down to us. I don't like this. I'm not his puppet. He doesn't own me. "I'm glad to see you all made it to the parade," The Capital citizens laugh. "I am pleased to see that this year we have a strong group of tributes. For those who don't know, I am President Alefric," more laughter. "Now that introductions are behind us, I have an important announcement for all of you. In the arena this year we have a special surprise for you all, I can't wait to see your faces!"

…  
We're going down, down in an earlier round  
And Sugar, we're going down swinging  
I'll be your number one with a bullet  
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it  
…

**Questions: (You don't have to answer any! I'm just wondering what your thoughts are!)**

**Favorite Quote?**

**Favorite Tribute (besides your own)?**

**Biggest threat in the arena?**

**What do you think the surprise will be?**

**Who do you think will die first?**

**Should I reveal the sponsor points each chapter?**

**Okay, that's it… of course feel free to tell me any other thoughts you have!:D**

**GET YOUR PROMPTS IN BY THE INTERVIEW CHAPTER!**


	6. HIATUS 'TIL JULY (please read)

**Hey guys! I'm SO SORRY! I am on hiatus with this story and instead of you all waiting for my update, I thought I'd tell you now. I will be back by June 30****th****. I have good reasons for not updating now because although it's summer I have LOTS of stuff going on- summer gym class for five hours a day followed by two hours volleyball camp and I have an hour of health online I have to do… so if you add that up, it's ****8 hours of activity a day!**** And after that I just want to sleep… So, I have been busy. I'm terribly sorry for updating yet, but I have reasons. There are only about 1,000 words left.**

**Here's a preview of the chapter (this is picked randomly from the middle):**

**Metric's POV**

When I thought of the Hunger Games, I never really paid attention to the Capital activities. Even after I volunteered I only cared about being slaughtered.

When my brother was here years ago, I blocked it out. I can't remember what his chariot outfit was. I don't know his training score. I have no idea how his interview went. I only know that he died. I guess my memory honed in on his death and blocked out everything else.

A small tap on my shoulder breaks me from my thoughts. Lero stands next to me. He's muscular, especially from our District. At first glance he doesn't seem like someone who'd be bullied.

We were in the same grade at school, Lero and I. I didn't ever talk to him. He didn't ever talk to me. We each had our own issues and neither of us had our minds on school, I know that. I also know that kids teased him and made fun of 'Lady Lero.'

We're rather different- I was disregarded, Lero was unmistakable- but there's something comforting about him. He doesn't intimidate me. He doesn't talk too much. He doesn't _ignore me._

**Again, so sorry! Be back June 30****th**** give or take. Even though this is short, please review.**

**Also, because I feel so bad, here's a teaser/summary of the chapter.**

Bad things happen. They always do, always will. What about Valentina? She seems to have more than one 'bad thing' in her life, including the mysterious girl she dreams about…

Society doesn't function properly without a ruler. So naturally, the Career alliance requires someone to lead them to victory. This year there's more than one tribute who'd fight for that spot.

Alliances bubble up in all over the training center… some good, some bad. The most difficult part of finding an ally is knowing whether you can trust them. So when it comes time for Metric to choose her ally, she knows not to make the same mistake her late brother did.

**Keegan's POV summary isn't on this since it isn't written yet!**

**Bye, see ya'll in about 2 weeks!**

**-Soph**


	7. Training Day 1 (Yay, I'm back!)

**Heyo! I'm baaaaackk! Here's Training Part 1. Again, thanks for the reviews & support! I think most people voted to reveal 'dem sponsor points, so I (if I remember) will list them at the bottom from most points to least points! If you're interested, I keep track of the tributes, personalities, weapons, sponsor points etc. on MicroSoft Access. It's pretty chill. PM me if you ever want an update! PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS SONG! IT REALLY RELATES! :) It's by Dia Frampton, 'Bullseye'**

**Look for a favorite quote!**

We're gonna run, gonna run, gonna save you  
We're rolling up our sleeves, got our fingers curled  
For the bad, for the good, for the evil,  
They got it out for me, for me  
…

**Valentina Bolt **_**The Solitary**_

I practically choke on my breakfast. Our mentor keeps a watchful eye over Nikolai and me, saying that if we don't eat quickly enough we'll be late for the first day of training.

"Hurry it up," he gestures to my scrambled eggs.

I slowly stab a piece of the egg with my fork, taking my own time to bring it to my mouth. Something in his voice irritates me, the authority. I purposely turn my green eyes to my mentor with my fork hovering just below my mouth. His jaw is set, eyes as cold as I'm sure my own are.

"I don't have time for this, Valentina!" he cries.

"You? _You _don't have time for this? What about me? I have to make sure I get a spot in the Career alliance!" Nikolai rambles. I throw him a stern look.

"You're joining the Careers?" Our escort pipes with a look of genuine pride on his face. I roll my eyes at his ignorance. It's sad that these people rule over the Districts. What's sadder is we let them.

Our mentor ignores him, turning to me once more. "I don't know Miss Bolt, what caused you to become so stubborn, what family member abandoned you in the woods; but I suggest learning how to _get along _with your fellow tributes. Because from the last 24 hours I have spent with you there hasn't been a moment of pleasance!" My insides seem to freeze, my body rigid. I want to speak, to snap at him, but my mouth won't move.

Instead I look like an idiot who can't take a punch.

Nikolai saves me, "Can we please go now? That pretty girl from District Two said she thought I was cute. I think I'd like to get a smooch in before training if you don't mind," he stands up with his white china plate and takes it to the sink.

"Oh no dear, let the Avox do that!" Our escort nods his purple bald head to a girl dressed in crimson, standing in silence in the corner of our room. Her black hair reflects the fluorescent light from above.

She looks like someone.

Someone so far into my brain I can't reach them.

On a light stomach, Nikolai and I retreat to the elevator. Our mentor waves goodbye to us while our escort wishes Nikolai luck with the Careers and the District Two girl. I'm sure Nikolai doesn't even know her name.

We stand in an awkward silence, Nikolai and I. Usually I'd try to get him to squirm in the tight place. But Nikolai is different. There's purity in him I admire. He's naïve and hopeful. And so far he's the only person in this place that's been able to put a smile on my face.

The elevator lets us off with a _ding! _and we find ourselves in a warehouse. The walls look refinished with a silvery metal. The floors are black. There are no windows, the only source of light comes from the hanging fixtures on the silver ceiling. Dummies and weapons galore are scattered across one half of the room seemingly at random; the other half is divided into square stations for survival skills- tying knots, plant information, starting fires and too many more to name. On the far wall there is an indent large enough to hold the gamemakers that will evaluate us later on.

Closest to the elevator is a ring of tributes, standing on a navy mat. Inside the ring is a middle-aged woman who looks relatively normal compared to most of the Capital citizens.

"Hello, I'm guessing you're District Three?" The woman asks us.

I respond before Nikolai can think of a lie. "Yes," my voice comes out emotionless. The woman nods and gestures for us to join the tribute circle.

Once both Nikolai and I are in position she begins, "Now that everyone is here, I will begin to tell you about the training center. We have split the room into two sides- weaponry and survival. It is usually thought that weapons kill the most people in the Hunger Games. When in reality the arena is the true murderess. Spend your time wisely. If you have any specific questions or concerns either talk to a trainer or me. Absolutely no fighting will be tolerated. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I groan at the overused phrase.

The tributes around me begin to shuffle around. Most don't look sure where to go. Only the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 immediately strut to the weaponry side. Convenient, isn't it, that they skipped over District 3 like it wasn't there. My District could be a home for the victors, but instead it's known for bloodbath casualties.

I'm one of the first non-Career tributes to break out of the tribute haze and stumble to a station. I decide to tackle the survival skills first, planting myself at a station that will -hopefully- teach me how to start a fire.

Moments after I've sat down a girl joins me. She's small. I recognize her from the Reaping. She's the District Eleven Girl who volunteered. She has a plain, but kind face. Her eyes twinkle from the bright hanging lights overhead. Her full lips are pushed into a smile.

"Bold move," I turn to look at her.

She tilts her head slightly to the left. She creases her eyebrows, wrinkling her creamy brown skin. "What?"

"Volunteering. I just hope you have a plan for yourself," I give her a half grin.

"Oh... that," she looks around to make sure no one's listening. "It's a long story. I was kind of forced to," when I don't say anything she continues warily. "I have a disease. A heart disease. I need to win for the medicine."

What a trusting tribute I've stumbled upon.

That's what I think before I process what she's said. _A heart disease. _That's who the Avox reminded me of. The three words throw me back three years to when I was fifteen. I remember the day Marika was ripped from my arms. My beautiful, delicate, Marika- the only person who's ever loved me. She healed my scars, but the day she left me they came back fortified.

I didn't think she could ever hurt me.

And she didn't.

Not until she died.

**Scott Jameson The Underestimated**

My allies and I are in an awkward line by the weaponry. Nobody speaks for a long time. But I know what we're doing. We're testing each other. Observing our alliance and our skills. Next to me, Dessiah taps her fingers against her leg. The silence is overwhelming, it's meant to make us squirm.

Finally someone moves from the line to face the rest of us, the Girl from Four. Her green eyes bore into my own. She searches me.

"I'm Katrina," she says, her voice like glass. "And I think we should find a leader," She glances between the Boy from One and I.

"How?" The Girl from One asks a little too eagerly.

"A test. I'll observe you all, and choose who I think is the most… leader-like." She smirks.

"That's not fair! Who said you get to decide?" the Girl from One squeals.

Katrina takes a step closer to the girl, who eases backwards. Katrina's a good foot taller and a hell of a lot more intimidating. The girl's eyes widen. Her platinum blond hair frames her face.

"And what's your name?" she asks the girl.

"Sprite Winters," she replies with pride.

"Yeah? Well, Sprite, I said I wanted to be the one who chose the leader so I think that's what I'm going to do. I wouldn't want to have to turn on one of my allies already, but I'm not afraid to lose one itsy bitsy twelve year old. I think we'd survive without you. But I don't think you'd survive without us. So either scram or find your weapon so I can decide if you'd make a good leader or not," Katrina's voice is like poison spewing out of her full lips. Her pretty face looks sinister.

Sprite nods, face red. But I can tell she wants to snap back at Katrina, only she knows better. Katrina nods to the weapons, signaling us to split.

Normally I would have argued with Katrina like Sprite did. Only this time I didn't because I agreed with her. Someone should observe us. Someone should choose the leader. Someone who wouldn't vote themselves. And from what I see, Katrina will be fair. She doesn't seem to have an attachment to her District partner like some of us do. She's watching us from a perspective we aren't used to.

The Boy from One marches to the daggers. I watch his tall figure. Unlike most boys I've seen from District One, he isn't very muscular. But there's still the arrogance of the average boy.

The boy picks up a dagger and hurls it towards the target, slicing the air with his weapon. The metal hits inside the circle, not perfect, but pretty damn close. He brushes his hands together when he's finished.

I don't watch anyone else because after seeing the Boy from One I go to the crossbows. I've trained since the Dark Days. I've seen what the Capital can do. They destroyed me. My parents were shot in the rebellion. My little sister and brother- kidnapped. And I doubt the Capital showed them any mercy. They left my older sister and I to rot an orphanage until she was old enough to take care of us.

Not that that was any better.

But either way, I've learned that the Capital isn't afraid to slain the innocent. Once the Hunger Games was announced and started I began training. I didn't know I was going to volunteer then, I was afraid of getting reaped.

The crossbow is heavy in my hands that warm the cool metal. I close my eyes and pluck a narrow arrow from the rack. I balance it on the crossbow and bring one hand back. Once the arrow is behind my head, I release. The arrow cuts through the thin air and hits the target with a satisfying _thump. _It's stuck in the center of the target.

I do my best not to act excited, so instead I take another arrow. My second doesn't hit as close to the target as my last, but it's still impressive.

In-between loading the crossbow I watch my allies. My District partner, Dessiah, stands a few feet from me with a bow in her own hand. Unlike mine, it's graceful instead of bulky. She raises it and shoots. I notice her hands tremble on the quiver. Sweat trickles down the side of her face. I thought I was taking a risk, volunteering at fourteen, but Dessiah took it to a new level. She volunteered at twelve.

There's something different about her… she doesn't _look _ruthless. She have her pretty face stuck up in space like most girls from my District. Instead she hides behind her dark wavy hair.

I knew her brother. Dalton Martin died in the Seventh Hunger Games. I remember him because he made it far. That, and he was a friend of my sister's. Dalton was betrayed by his District partner, stabbed in the back- literally and figuratively.

I just hope she didn't volunteer to avenge him; if she did it'd make me her first target.

Dessiah's arrow lands within the target, nothing too remarkable, but she's proved herself to the alliance.

I turn my eyes to the Boy from Four. He's odd-looking, to be completely honest. His short red hair contrasts his green eyes. The boy has a smaller nose and long lashes. He's shorter than me, but still muscular. He works at the nets station, his fingers fumbling with the rope, tying pieces together quickly.

Sprite is by the spears. She grips a long weapon in her hands. It seems like it should weight her over, but she stands still. Sprite throws the spear at the dummy stationed ahead of her instead of a target. She hits the small board, but on the outside. Like Dessiah, not too remarkable, but she has a spot in the alliance.

But Sprite's different from Dessiah. She's all fire while Dessiah is shy and emotionally flexible like water.

"Time's up!" Katrina voices with an air of confidence. She claps her hands together. "I've decided who the leader should be, but first I realized I don't know your names! Well, except for Caspias," she gestures to her District partner, "and Little-Miss-Feisty-Sprite," she jerks her head to the District One Girl.

"Well, greetings everybody! I'm Jules Gilded," The Boy from One says. His voice is higher than I expected.

"Dessiah,"

"Scott"

"Now that's out of the way, I think Scott should be our leader," she nods to me approvingly. I try not to gawk at her.

If only District Two could see me now. A few weeks ago I was the measly little sick boy. Now I'm in charge of the most powerful alliance in the Hunger Games.

To my surprise, no one objects.

**Metric Tenure **_**The Reckless**_

When I thought of the Hunger Games, I never really paid attention to the Capital activities. Even after I volunteered I only cared about being slaughtered.

When my brother was here years ago, I blocked it out. I can't remember what his chariot outfit was. I don't know his training score. I have no idea how his interview went. I only know that he died. I guess my memory honed in on his death and blocked out everything else.

A small tap on my shoulder breaks me from my thoughts. Lero stands next to me. He's muscular, especially from our District. At first glance he doesn't seem like someone who'd be bullied.

We were in the same grade at school, Lero and I. I didn't ever talk to him. He didn't ever talk to me. We each had our own issues and neither of us had our minds on school, I know that. I also know that kids teased him and made fun of 'Lady Lero.'

We're rather different- I was disregarded, Lero was unmistakable- but there's something comforting about him. He doesn't intimidate me. He doesn't talk too much. He doesn't _ignore me._

"What?" I turn towards him.

"We should go somewhere else, this is boring," he nods towards the braided rope in my hands. I agree, the knot station isn't my idea of fun.

"Let's go to the weaponry," Lero stares at me, speechless. His eyebrows crease.

"The Careers are there though. The basically _claim _the weapons," He finally says.

I shrug, "All the more reason to put them back in their place,"

In the end Lero agrees.

I decide to try out the swords first, while Lero strides to a weird weapon I haven't seen before. It's like a fan with blades.

The Girl from Three is already there. From what I can tell she isn't a Career, although the typical arrogance is present. She holds a silver sword in her hands. A sliced dummy stands ahead of her. She stops slicing when she hears me approach.

"So, what brings you here?" she asks, her eyes still trained on her sword.

She slurs her words. There's dominance in her splintering voice that irritates me. "Oh… well gosh… I'm not quite sure. Maybe the arena? The fight to the death that will take place in a few days? The fact that knowing how to use a weapon could save my life?" I snap. The girl rolls her eyes.

"So we've got a little spitfire over here, huh? What happened? Daddy didn't pay enough attention to his little girl… she grew up rough around the edges?" her voice his light, but her tone deadly. She twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. She's trying to set me off; to make me uncomfortable.

Two can play at that game.

I throw my hands up. "Close enough. What about you? What's your hidden secret?" I take a shot in the dark, " Someone ripped out your fickle little heart? Put you a bit over the edge?" I give her a wink. The girl's eyes soften and for a moment I _almost _feel sorry. But soon they're stony once more.

"You wish. But really, sweetheart, I'm golden," With a toss of her hair she's gone to another weapon.

I hope I didn't already make an enemy.

Not that it wouldn't be entertaining…

I slide a sword out of the weapon rack. The silver blade catches the white light, making purple spots form in my vision. When I finally blink them away I notice Lero watching me. With a shrug I continue to the dummy. The Girl from Three, The Girl from Seven- who I only just observed- Lero and I are the only non-Career tributes in the weapon area. So naturally, a few of the Careers are watching me. Not good… I chose to work with the swords first because I'm completely inexperienced with them. I haven't lifted a heavy metal object once in my life- unless you count the railroad supplies I've worked with.

I lumber towards the swords dummy. There's grey cloth stretched across its body. Two targets are stamped on the head and heart. With my sweaty hands making the sword slippery in my grasp, I swing at the dummy's head, making a tear in the dummy. The sword is clumsy in my hands. It feels too heavy, so after only one more slash I decide to try something else.

I saunter over to Lero, who still is at the bladed fans. He gives me a quizzical look. "Why'd you give up already?" he asks.

"I suck at swords. I think I'll try something else," I shrug.

"Go ahead. Want me to come with you?" He asks. I smile at Lero but shake my head.

"Nah. I think it's smarted to split up. Don't worry though, I'm sure you'll spend plenty of time with me in the arena," I grin.

"You mean, we're allies?" he asks me, his blue eyes boring into mine. I can see my reflection from the lights. I look weak. My pale skin is brittle and my green eyes that once shined so bright look dull and foggy. My dark brown hair is choppy as always- I cut it myself. I frown at myself in Lero's eyes. He looks strong- he _is _strong. I suppose dancing has its pros.

I smile again. "Sure, I mean unless you were planning on teaming up with someone else…"

"Nope!" He gives me a grin.

I hope I haven't made the same mistake my brother did. Somehow though, I don't see Lero stabbing me in the back.

**Keegan Hale**

Everybody around me seems to know their place. They waltz around the training room so sure of themselves. Everybody but me. I don't know what to do. Should I go to the weaponry or survival stations? Should I make any allies? Certainly that would be a good decision temporarily. Eventually they might become a burden or I might have to end up deciding whether my life is worth more than theirs- something I don't want to do.

As of now I'm standing in an aisle between the knot tying and fire making stations. Neither sounds too appealing. Maybe I should try to find an ally, someone I can trust.

Before I can make up my mind, the trainer who spoke to us at the beginning of the day strides to the center of the room with a microphone in her hand. "Now we will break for lunch. Head out the doors to your left and you will enter the dining room. Food will be served,"

Five minutes later I find myself in at a sleek long white table. I'm seated near one of the ends with a pile of food on my plate. Food I know I'll never finish. I keep my head down as tributes walk past me, finding seats with allies they've already formed.

Just then, a girl with light blond hair finds a seat next to me. I smile at her. She only says back to me, "I'm Four," and sticks her right hand out.

I take it in mine. Her grip is firm and a blanket of nervousness has fallen over me.

_Don't you screw this up, Keegan. _

I only now notice that the girl looks at me expectantly, raising her light eyebrows.

"Oh, um… Keegan," My words stumble out of my mouth.

Four nods back to me with no emotion evident on her pale face. She's like a ghost drenched in bleach.

Before I can say anything to break the uneasy silence, another tribute plops down across from Four.

Something flashes across Four's face when the boy with golden hair sits down. Disgust. The boy ignores her and starts to eat his meal of some type of meat and a creamy white soup with bread. I shoot Four a quizzical look, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"Hello?" I greet the boy, my voice rising like I'm asking a question.

"Oh, sorry, I was too busy eating to introduce myself," The boy laughs a bit.

I shrug, "I can't blame you. I'm Keegan,"

"Will Houston." He turns to Four and nods.

"You guys know each other?" I ask, confused by the relationship.

"Yeah, we're both from Twelve," Four grunts.

"Oh…" I pretend like it makes sense now. Why does Four act hostile to Will when Will is only kind to her?

"May I sit here?" I turn to see another boy with dark skin like mine.

"Go ahead," I smile at him.

"Thanks,"

…

It doesn't take long to start a conversation with the three tributes that sit near me. And before I know it, lunch is over.

The tributes mostly break up into groups, but a few shuffle alone back to the training center.

"So, do you guys want to train together?" Four asks nonchalantly. My heart lifts.

"Sure," I try not to sound too excited.

Barkson and Will agree as well. Questions swim around in my head- Does this make us allies? Why does Four act even stonier when Will is around? I don't have time to sort them out now. Might as well pay attention to what I do know- I'm being thrown into an arena in less than a week and I need to survive.

_Do I? _ A small voice asks. I've never really thought about it… What if I went into the Hunger Games as and surrendered, knowing I won't come out- but no, Parish needs me. My younger brother would be in hell without someone relatively _normal _taking care of him. My mother and father would be of no help.

Whenever I close my eyes I see my father with a hollow grin plastered on his face just like the one evident when I was reaped. No doubt if I lose he'll make Parish volunteer to avenge his pride lost with me.

And then there's my mother. She's been blinded by the past. Her sister was in Games when they were younger. My mother has never been able to live beyond the moment she died.

I hope my brother doesn't turn out like her.

"So, what should we do?" Barkson breaks me from my thoughts. I notice the muscles on his arms. I guess chopping down trees gives you some advantages.

"Let's do the weaponry first and survival stations last so they're fresher in our brains in the arena," Will suggests. Four grunts.

I ignore Four, "Sounds good to me,"

The group proceeds to the left side of the training center. Before us only a few tributes besides the Careers were here.

"Does this make us allies?" Will asks.

"I guess so," Barkson replies.

I nod, happy to have found a group, now I have to figure out who I can and can't trust…

…

We're gonna run, gonna run, gonna save you  
We're rolling up our sleeves, got our fingers curled  
For the bad, for the good, for the evil,  
They got it out for me, for me  
…

**Allies List **(normally I wouldn't post this, but I don't want anyone to get confused… also keep it mind that these could change easily in the Games)

Careers**: Sprite, Jules, Dessiah, Scott, Katrina, Caspias**

Alliance1:** Xander, Vesper, Shay**

Alliance 2:** Robin, Ayla**

Alliance 3:** Nikolai, Daphne, Atticus**

Alliance 4:** Shade, Thorn, Valentina**

Alliance 5: **Lero, Metric**

Alliance 6:** Barkson, Keegan, Will, Four**

Alone:** Bobbin**

**Sponsor Points as of June 6****th**

Bobbin- 28

Jules- 27

Ayla- 22

Shawn (Shade)- 21

Lero- 20

Valentina- 20

Sprite- 20

Shay- 17

Daphne (Magenta- 17

Metric- 16

Atticus- 15

Vesper (Vezzy)- 15

Katrina (Katri)- 15

William (Will)- 14

Dessiah (Dessie)- 14

Scott- 13

Robin- 12

Four- 12

Nikolai- 10

Keegan- 10

Barkson- 9

Xander- 8

Thorn- 7

Caspias- 4

_**READ ALL THE AUTHOR'S NOTE! **_**(Wow. I think I'd rather deal with Lillith Gold than have to redo the points and alliances…) OH I UPDATED THESE JUNE 8****th****, so if you reviewed any time after your points aren't updated.. And now I'm realizing it's been almost a month since I updated last (not counting the hiatus note). **

**Oh, and just to clarify, yes Valentina is gay too; bi actually!**

**AGHAHAAH! Sorry, got too excited… just wanted to say I love writing this story, thank you everyone for such in-depth characters and wonderful reviews! I seriously appreciate each and every one of you and I'm so thankful that my stories always have the best submitters. **

**Well, I hope you're happy with your alliance! And if you want more points, there's still time! Review my children! Also, I'll allow you to go back through the chapters with sponsor points and guest review to earn some that you missed out on. (only do this if you didn't do the sponsor questions previously. If you've already answered it won't count as extra. Also, be sure to tell me who you are!) :)**

**And, here's a sponsor point question…**

SPONSOR POINTS (2 points):  Review! Yay, that's it! :)

**Also if you have any questions for this story or about the Games or me or anything ask it in your review! I'll answer frequently asked questions, or just good questions or whatever next chapter :). Thanks! And also, what do you think about the length of this chapter? Is it reasonable?**

**And finally, if you'd like to humor yourself, you can check out my very first SYOT… this is my 4****th**** I believe… It's called 'The 50****th**** Hunger Games' and it has 21 chapters and 16,000 words ;P I'd like to say I improved! **

_**I MADE A FRICKING BLOG JUST COS I WANTED TO! IT WILL BE REVEALED NEXT CHAPTER FOR SURE! :)**_

_**PROMPT WINNER(S) WILL BE AWAREDED NEXT CHAPTER!**_


	8. Training Day 2- It All Falls Apart

**Heyo! Here's Training Day Dos.  
If y'all want to, look for a favorite quote? :) **

_Trying not to lose my head  
but I have never been this scared before  
Tell you what I'll do instead  
lay my body down on the floor  
To forget what I've done  
silhouette til the good lord come_

…

**Dessiah Martin **_**The Kind**_

Dawn filters through my window, pushing a blanket of sleep off of my eyes. I shift in my bed. It's nothing like my bed at home. It was much smaller and comfier. The Capital always seems to think that bigger means better- it doesn't. Because even though their beds are giant, I'd rather have my bed from home.

Pushing the stagnant comforter off the bed, I stand up. _Time to start my day. _I groan and head to the shower. I'm careful not to slip on the shiny tile floor of the bathroom as I ease my way to the shower and start running the water while I strip of my pajamas. The bleak bathroom walls are lined with mirrors. It's rather creepy to see ten of your reflections at the same time.

I stop. When I look in the mirror I see a redheaded girl with brown eyes, crystal clear. She's not fazed by the Hunger Games, oh no. She's different from her usual self. This girl's got her nose up, a smirk on her face. Her clear eyes tell a story of hate and betrayal.

I shake my head, _what's wrong with me?! _The smirk disappears. That isn't me.

No, I'm the quiet girl from District Two whose parents forced her to do a terrible thing. That's me.

Not some sick monster that'd drive a knife in anyone's back.

After my shower I meet Scott at the breakfast table with a fixing of bacon and bread on his plate. He looks happy. _That's not going to be me. I'm not going to be happy with the idea of the Hunger Games. Ever. _

"G'morning Dessiah!" Scott nods to me.

"Hi Scott." I take a seat at the table next to him. Our mentor and escort are already seated.

"Now you both are here, let's talk strategy for today," Trinidad Merce, our mentor claps his hands together, getting down to business already.

"Scott, you've been declared the head of a major alliance. And you told me that the Girl from Four _gave _you the position. Without seeing you train?"

"No, we trained for a few minutes and she watched us," I pipe up.

"Ah… either way, something's off about Four. I saw her at the parade-"

"She was wearing a lovely costume!" Table claps.

"- and she looked arrogant, had a smug look on her face. Now, why would someone so cocky just give away the leader position? Sounds like something's up."

"What do you mean?" Scott asks, his voice suddenly defensive.

"I mean, she has ulterior motives. She wants you to be in charge for a reason, which probably ends bad for you,"

Scott's face crumbles, the happiness no longer evident.

A mean part of me isn't surprised Scott wasn't chosen based on skills- he's skinny. Probably the skinniest tribute this year except for the Girl from Eleven. I know Scott has a disease from our shared history in District Two. It isn't often you see a kid so tall but thin in our District. Some people worried his sister wasn't feeding him, but eventually they learnt the truth.

I awkwardly twist my ring around my finger. It's my token, handed down generations of the Martin family, and seeing as I could be the last Martin child it seems fit for me to die with it on my hand. No doubt my parents will pry it off my fingers when my body comes home. They'll sell it.

I mean _if. If _I die, not when. I have to remind myself that I have a chance without boosting my confidence so much as to become overly cocky. I can't afford to loose myself in the Hunger Games. Especially not yet, on the second day of training.

"So, your goal today- Dessiah, I'm talking to you as well- is to find out _why _Katrina wants someone else to lead,"

"What if we don't find a reason?" I ask Trinidad.

"Then, Scott, you'll need to sleep with one eye open. And Dessiah, I'm counting on you to watch his back, can we trust you to do that?"

Everyone's eyes are on mine. I let go of the silver ring.

"Yeah, you can," I reply, looking down at my food. I'm not even sure why I can't look Scott in the eyes, but something's impelling me to look down instead. Like I feel guilt already because I know how hard it will be to keep the promise while I'm already looking out for myself.

I want to help Scott, I promise I really do, but I just don't know if I can.

**Shawn 'Shade' Kelly **_**The Shadow**_

It's odd to think of what comes next. After this day of training we present ourselves to the gamemakers, something I'm not ready to do. Fast forward to the interviews. I can't even imagine sitting on the white chair, looking Puma Flickerman into the eyes and telling him how happy I am to be here.

Right now I suppose I should stick to the present, or else I feel like my head will fall off.

So. Goals. I should have some by this time in the Capital, but I don't really. Find an ally, I guess, would be a good thing to do.

First I have to observe. An ally is worthless if you can put your trust in them. Which is hard- in this city you can't even trust a smile.

I gaze over the tributes from One and Two, neither of them will want allies. Both from One are spoiled rotten, I can tell from the looks on their faces, the way they tilt their heads up. The pair from Two is different. Both are small, the boy skinny, the girl young. The boy's eyes dart around, especially focusing on the Girl from Four. The girl eyes her a couple times, but doesn't seem nearly as cautious.

The Boy from Three, Nikolai, is moving at all times whether he's twiddling his thumbs or tapping his foot. He's energetic. But he also doesn't have many tributes around him, his District partner doesn't turn to look at him once. Speaking of the girl, she looks lonely, but her jaw is set. She focuses so much on training, maybe so she isn't as conscious of her state of loneliness.

The pair from Four aren't up for grabs, at least in my case. The Girl is the worst of the Careers. She's rather pretty, but I see her face turn poisonous more than once. Caspias, the other District 4 tribute is more timid, he doesn't look the other tributes in the eyes.

Shay is my District partner, so I know better than anyone else here- I don't want her as an ally. Nothing personal, but she doesn't appear to be the outdoorsy-type.

Metric and her District partner Lero seem to already be teamed together. I wouldn't want to be in an alliance with them. I know that if Lero and I got hurt and Metric could only save one of us, it'd be Lero for sure and vice versa.

Ayla from Seven has an ally already, the Girl from Eleven- I forgot her name. She does seem like she'd be a good person to ally with though. She's small and her eyes twinkle with something bigger than herself. Barkson is already with a large group I do not want to be with.

The Girl from Eight has been to almost every station. The odd thing is, when I watched her in weaponry she was _terrible. _But whenever she messed up she didn't care, didn't show any disappointment. And she was terrible at everything, almost like it's on purpose… I can tell already that I don't want to get involved with her. The Boy from Eight is rather short and skinny. I remember him from his reaping- he ran away on stage. Must have some guts or lack thereof. Either way, he's someone to keep an eye on.

The rest of the Districts seem to run together, I guess I, like the gamemakers, get bored after a certain amount of time watching tributes train. Time to make a move towards my first goal.

I stalk over to the sword station where the Girl from Three lurks. She gives me a look of suspicion when I arrive and grab one of the long shiny blades.

"You like swords?" I ask her.

"Well, I'm here aren't I?" She replies, moving her faces as little as possible. She's got a rather stony expression, the same one I observed before.

I shrug, "I'm here and I don't like swords,"

"Maybe you should leave then,"

"Maybe you should learn how to make friends," I counter.

"Why does everyone keep telling me to make friends!?" She drops the sword in her hand it clatters on the metal floor. "I'm going into a fight to the death and suddenly it becomes important to find a best buddy?" She starts to imitate a voice, talking high-pitched, " 'Hey, do you want to bond while we kill people?' 'Yeah, I love killing people in my free-time' !'"

I feel my eyes widen, "Wow, what a speech… I just came over here to see if I could find an ally…" I mumble.

"An ally?" She asks, obviously confused.

"Yeah, you look like you wouldn't make such a bad ally," I shrug.

"Really?" Her voice lifts for a moment before she quickly wips her expressions clean, "Sure… I'll be your ally. I'm Valentina."

"Shade… and I need you to do one thing for me-"

"What? You're asking for favors already?"

"I need to know I can trust you," I tell her.

"Fine, but how do I figure if I can trust you?" She snarls.

"That's for you to find out," I grin. "But, see that boy over there?" I point to the Boy from Eight. When Valentina nods I continue, "I want him in our alliance too,"

Valentina stares back at me in awe, "The weakling? In my alliance?" I give her a look of steel and she cowers. "_Fine," _

I watch Valentina march away.

**Daphne 'Magenta' Cornwall **_**The Double**_

The training center buzzes with activity. I don't really know where to go- how do I fit into this? I'm just a girl from District Nine who has _issues. _I'm not a tribute. I'm a fighter. But not a tribute. Accepting that I'm a tribute would I mean I _accept _being controlled and forced into my imminent death. Instead, I know that I'm a fighter. Someone who won't give up easy.

"Daphne?" A boy's voice asks from behind me. I whip around to the Boy from Three.

"Actually, it's Magenta," I correct him.

The boy nods slowly, squinting his eyes at me. "I could've sworn your name was Daphne… anyways, I'm Nikolai. I was wondering if you'd be my ally?"

I look at Nikolai suspiciously. "You just waltz up to me without knowing anything about me and want to be allies?"

"Well, I'm allies with Atticus over there. He says that we can trust you, he says had a conversation with you yesterday,"

"Did I say anything… interesting?" I ask.

"Yeah, Atticus said you were a good kisser," Nikolai cackles.

"_What!?" _ I nearly scream.

Nikolai continues to laugh, placing a hand over his stomach, "I'm only kidding! You thought I was serious!"

I put a hand over my face. "I mean, did he say anything about an illness?"

"Nope!"

_Daphne! _Ugh… she must not have told him she had a personality disorder. Probably thought it'd frighten Atticus, thought I should be the one to tell him… bitch.

"Oh, of course…

The room goes quite. That's the only hint at what is to come is the eerie silence. Only the _clink _of clashing metal fills my ears.

That is, until a sharp scream shakes the training center. It's the Girl from Seven. Her pale hands wrap around her freckled face, caramel blonde hair falling in front. I immediately think something's wrong with her. But a girl with chocolate skin clutches her arm. Both look directly in front of them at a small boy lying on the floor.

I can barely see the front of his shirt, drenched in crimson. Blood waterfalls from somewhere in his chest.

_He's been stabbed, _I tell myself. But it doesn't seem real. I feel like there's an invisible wall shielding my emotions.

The Girl from Three falls to her knees. She shouts a name but I'm too lost to make it out.

"WHO DID THIS?" The head trainer yells. Her once kind face is now tough and cold. When no one answers she asks again, "WHO-?" but stops- because she sees the knife grasped in the bleeding boy's own hand, laced with blood.

Why did he do this to himself?

The Girl from Three runs to the boy's body. She isn't crying, but her face is twisted with sadness. She shakes his body, but it's obvious- he isn't going to wake up.

This time I hear the boy's name. "Thorn!"

The Boy from Eight.

The boy who ran off the stage.

The boy who cracked.

**Barkson Trine **_**The Noble**_

Thorn Cotton's body is hauled off by a couple of trainers, although it should have only taken one since the boy was so small.

I don't know what to say, or what to tell you. I'm not ready for this. Caught off guard, I suppose. Death is meant to wait for the arena, but now it seems it has snuck up on us. I look at the faces in front of me.

The Careers, huddled in a group, look casual. So much as it irritates me. A boy just _died. _And only Dessiah wears a frown. Caspias looks anxious, maybe even scared, like he doesn't know what to feel. Katrina smirks.

The two girls who saw Thorn's body first- Robin and Ayla- hold hands. Ayla wipes a tear from her eyes and suddenly I have a newfound appreciation for my District partner.

My alliance, crowded around me, is a mixture of emotions. Four is disturbed, Will shocked, and Keegan sad- at least that's what I can tell from their faces. I wonder what they think I'm feeling. I honestly don't know myself.

Bobbin, Thorn's District partner, is in tears. Her face is stony and she doesn't make a sound, but tears roll down her face. No one stands beside her to comfort her.

Valentina, who I now figure was Thorn's ally, stands beside her other ally Shawn… er, Shade. Neither cry. By now all sadness is wiped off of Valentina's face. Shade stares at where Thorn's body was and doesn't lift his gaze.

A different trainer comes up to the scattered tributes. He tells us we need to go back to our rooms.

Once inside the materialistic room for District Seven tributes, Ayla and I sit on the white wrap-around couch in front of the television. We told our mentor and escort what happened in the training center.

"Why did he do it?" I ask Ayla.

"The pressure was too much. He couldn't take it," she replies. There's irritation in her voice like it's obvious why Thorn killed himself. Maybe it is.

"Oh. Yeah, right. I saw you and Robin. Are you allies?"

"Yes, I found her on the first day of training. She seemed normal enough," Ayla pauses, "Who are your allies? I saw you with a group of people…"

"I have three- Four, Will, and Keegan," I inform her.

After an awkward minute of silence Ayla stands up, "I'm sorry Barkson. I don't mean to be rude, but that took a lot out of me," she brushes invisible dust off her pant legs. "I'm going to bed,"

"It's fine. Want me to wake you for dinner?" I ask. Ayla nods and thanks me before heading towards her room.

After she's gone my eyes feel heavy, like invisible weights are pushing them down. Before I know it, I fall asleep on the couch.

**Amacus (Head Gamemaker)**

The President storms into my wooden office. His face is red and crueler than usual.

"Mr. President?" I feel my eyes widen as he marches towards me.

"The Boy from Eight- Thorn Cotton- he's just killed himself in the Training Center!" My jaw drops.

"How?!"

"Nevermind how! What matters is a tribute is dead _before _the arena! Do you even know what this means? Do you know the impact this could have?"

When he stops talking I gasp, "Of-of course sir! This is a catastrophe!"

"Damn right it is! How are you going to fix this?" It takes me a moment to realize he means me. How _am _I going to fix it?

I don't know why I say it, but I tell him, "I have a son. He's Thorn's age, same size. We could pass him as Thorn on the interview because the tributes wear so much makeup,"

"You're married?" The President asks in surprise. My face reddens. "Not a bad idea though, Amacus. But what will we do for the arena or the private sessions? I don't want an innocent Capital boy in the arena any more than you want your son in there,"

I think for a minute. "For the private sessions we can give Thorn a score, pretend that he's alive. And in the arena we'll send Thorn's body up in a tube and naturally it'll fall over before the time is up and he'll explode. No one will ever have to know,"

The President nods, seeming to think through my idea. "What about the tributes? Surely they've told their mentors and escorts. What if anyone leaked our news?"

I'm surprised at myself for having an answer already, "They won't tell. Not the mentors or the escorts. Plus, who'd believe them? We'd shut them up before they news got the Districts,"

"Brilliant, Amacus," The President says. A wobbly smile appears on my face. Maybe I'm not so bad at this! He gets up to leave, but stops with his only his head in peeking through my office. "And stop drumming your fingers! A Head Gamemaker is supposed to be confident- not a fidgeting wreck!"

There it goes; there goes my pride.

…

_Trying not to lose my head  
but I have never been this scared before  
Tell you what I'll do instead  
lay my body down on the floor  
To forget what I've done  
silhouette til the good lord come_

_**24- Thorn Cotton, District Eight- The Optimistic**_

**Thorn's song is **_**Where the Story Ends **_**by the Fray.  
(Each tribute gets their own song that I think suits them best. I suggest people to listen to the song, especially the submitter. This song represents Thorn's reasoning and it shows his beauty).**

…

**Here's a hug from one fandom to another- Even though I don't watch Glee, I'm shocked and saddened by Cory's death. I don't know what I'd do if one of my idols died so suddenly… And poor Lea.**

**Sorry I'm bad at updating… I suck… I know…I'm tired of the Capital (specifically training). SORRY IT'S SHORT! It was this or nothin' for another two weeks. So yeah, I thought you'd all want this… **

**Bye Thorn. Please don't tell me I shouldn't have killed him, okay? I know, I know, but I needed something to make the plot more interesting. We saw some of Valentina's soft side, eh? Take it all in now because I don't think there'll be much more of that… I'll try to explain some of her strong emotions later, k?**

**And now, on a happier note, I present to you the **_WINNERS OF THE PROMPT CONTEST!-_

**4****th**** Place****, with 5 sponsor points to their tribute goes to… **_**India**__**the**__**Candor - Lero**_

**3****rd**** Place****, with 10 sponsor points to their tribute goes to… **_**Hungergameslover04- Bobbin**_

**TIED FOR ****1****st**** Place**** (I know, what a Hallmark moment.. sorry, I'm not good at making decisions so there's a tie for first) with 20 sponsor points to their tribute goes to… **_**Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg**_**- **_**Metric**_

**1st Place****, with 20 sponsor points to their tribute goes to…. **_**TheOtherLachance**_**- **_**Valentina**_** and **_**Nikolai**_** (Tell me how you wish to split you points between your tributes)**

**PLEASE READ THIS- If you entered, and didn't win any points- I'm sorry. There were 12 entries. And at first I thought I'd get two, maybe three. I didn't even dream of getting five. So thank you all for submitting, your effort has been noted and I really really loved every story entered! You can check out all the entries on my favorites list (except danceforevergirl's who PMed me) or search for stories with Ruetheday in the summary. Somethin' like that :). Thanks again!**

**QUESTION (not for points)- Have any of you watched 'The Vampire Diaries' cos I started watching them. And I read 'The Lightning Thief' for the first time. And now I'm reading the second PJO book, 'Sea of Monsters'. Anyone read those? (if you give me any spoilers I swear *threat* )**

**PEACE OUT.**

**Sophie.**


	9. Please Read

**Not an update, I'll tell you that right now… I really wanted to talk to you guys. You all really are fantastic readers and reviewers and I've definitely missed you. I've just been really busy and haven't gotten the time or will to continue the story. I don't think I will continue it… and it really pains me to say that. It's my best writing and to leave it where it is, to stop writing for it, kills me. And then I think about all of my loyal readers. Whether you've submitted or not. I wanted you all to know, that I am sorry. Please don't hate me or think less of me. **

**On the other side, I do still visit this site and katsparkle13 has actually helped fuel my will to write a great deal. She and TheOtherLachance and captainrandom64 have been very kind to me, and I owe them thanks. **

**Anyways, I'd like to start a new story. A new SYOT/C story that will be legal *cough cough* don't kill me fanfiction *cough*. I really wanted to update to get you all to know this and to ask for your forgiveness. **

**And if anyone has any ideas for my SYOT/C please leave them in the review. It will either be a Harry Potter one or a Hunger Games one. I'm kind of leaning towards the Harry Potter side, but let me know how you feel!**

**Thank you, for your consideration, *not sarcasm***

**Sophie .**

**(Here's a short story so this doesn't get deleted…)**

There once was a boy named Harry who lived and defeated Voldemort.

Seven years before his own story, there was the story of Newt.

The wizarding world is coming to the big screen once more.

*hallelujah*


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